#grow a fucking spine dude

[0alix0]

you hate solas x mythal because you think solas shouldn't have had any previous relationships in thousands of years of his life

i hate solas x mythal because it's yet another exhausting love triangle where the slaver and abuser gets a funky reincarnation and the victim gets blamed for absolutely everything and put into magical prison forever..........

we are not the same

[a-confused-spoon]

I keep thinking about how many people talk shit about Mel for whatever she did with Jayce in s1- as if Jayce couldn't be manipulated by Marcus's daughter if she tried hard enough

I cannot relate to people who dislike female characters for “being manipulative.” She’s literally creative problem solving before your eyes. She’s literally just using her words. Maybe the other blorbos should be less pawn-like for her beautiful hands hmm

[frankensteinstdick]

“Fuck you’re so wet for me dude” he says, dragging my boxers down my legs as I hold my hips up in the air to allow him space to remove my clothes. The cold air now hits my exposed cunt, sending shivers down my spine and making me whine more for him to come back and warm me up.

His eyes fix on my small dick, widening at the sight and refusing to look away. His tongue peaks out, wetting his bottom lip before he bites down on it.

“Bro have you ever been sucked off?”

I tell him “yes, but it was always shit” which makes him laugh.

“They were just doing it wrong,” he claims, gaze still on my dick.

“Oh really? That sounds like a challenge, mate.”

Finally, his eyes look up, making contact with my own. A long, arrogant smirk makes its way across his face, sending a million thoughts racing through my head and down into my dick. His smirk only grows when he noticed how much more wet I am.

“Bet.”

[ch0llies]

EARNED IT | MATTHEW STURNIOLO PT.2

read part one here

brothersbestfriend!matt x innocent!reader

You're an 18-year-old high school senior, the innocent little sister of Matt's best friend. Which means off-limits in every way. But 22-year-old college hockey player, Matt can't ignore the way you cling to him, asking dangerous questions with trusting eyes. You don't understand the fire you're playing with- but Matt does. And he's burning to teach you what happens when you get too close.

story warnings: oral (fem reviving), masterbation, lowkey corruption kink (if u squint), brothers best friend, pet names (sweetheart, angel), age gap (four years), etc. all characters are of age. If any of these topics upset you...don't read!

word count: 6k

ib: @ariestrxsh ‘s young god

You pause in the doorway, your breath catching at his words. Earn it? Your stomach twists. Matt watches you with that lazy, knowing smirk that makes your skin itch.

Your fingers tighten on the doorframe. “How do I… earn it?”

Matt’s smirk deepens. He steps forward, closing the space between you just enough to make your pulse stutter. His hand lifts, fingers brushing your jaw, barely touching but enough to make you feel dizzy.

“You’ll know,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “When you deserve it, I’ll give it to you.”

Your breath shudders, heat crawling up your spine. You don’t even know what you’re asking for but the way he’s looking at you, the way your entire body is reacting, makes you desperate to find out.

You swallow hard, shifting on your feet. “But-”

Matt just chuckles, shaking his head as he backs away, hands sliding into the pockets of his grey sweatpants. You look down. His arousal is gone now, or at least, hidden well enough that he’s in control again. Unlike you.

“Go to bed, sweetheart.”

His voice is final, dismissive, like he’s already won whatever game you didn’t realize you were playing.

You bite your lip, hesitating for just a second longer before turning on shaky legs, stepping out into the hallway and returning to your room.

The next morning you try to act like nothing happened, but the moment you step into the kitchen and see Matt leaning against the counter, coffee in hand, wearing that damn fitted black tank top and grey sweatpants again, you feel your entire body react.

His gaze flicks to you immediately.

He notices the way you freeze.

The way your thighs instinctively press together.

The way your lips part slightly, like you’re remembering exactly what they felt like against his.

He smirks. Like he knows. Like he owns every single thought running through your head.

Your brother, completely oblivious, slaps Matt on the back as he walks past. “Dude, you good? You look like you slept like shit.”

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, eyes still locked onto yours and that’s when you finally notice the deep purple eyebags under his eyes. He always had eyebags, but your brother was right. These looked worse.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, taking a slow sip of coffee. “Didn’t get much sleep. Mind was elsewhere.”

Your breath catches.

Your brother shrugs, already grabbing cereal from the cabinet. “I told you not to stay up. We gotta commute back to campus tomorrow morning. We only got today to get our sleep schedule back in check.”

Matt exhales through his nose, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah,” he mutters, his smirk growing as he watches you shift on your feet, still burning under his gaze.

You sit at the kitchen table, trying so hard to act normal, to pretend that your body doesn’t still burn from last night. But it’s impossible when Matt keeps looking at you like that- like he knows exactly what you’re thinking, exactly what your body still craves.

“What the fuck?!”

Your brother’s sharp voice shatters the illusion, making you flinch. Your eyes snap to him just as he’s stepping closer, his expression twisted in disbelief, his gaze locked onto you.

No- your neck.

Your stomach plummets.

His eyes widen, his jaw tightening as he glares at the unmistakable mark just beneath your jawline. The dark, deep, evidence of everything you were trying to keep secret.

Panic floods you.

“I-”

“Who the fuck did this?” His voice is sharp, angry, his fists clenching at his sides.

You freeze, heart hammering, throat dry. You can’t say Matt.

Matt is right there.

Standing beside you, silent. His expression unreadable. He’s watching you, waiting- not stepping in, not making excuses, just waiting to see what you’ll do.

You scramble for something- anything- to say, but before you can, your brother scoffs, his lip curling in disgust.

“You kidding me right now?” His voice is lower now, sharp with anger. “You know who gets hickeys?” He takes a step closer, voice cold “Sluts.”

Your stomach drops.

Heat rushes to your face- not from embarrassment, but from humiliation. You shake your head quickly, trying to explain, but nothing comes out.

Matt stiffens beside you.

“Yo,” his voice is calm but firm, cutting through the tension like a blade. “Lay off, dude”

Your brother whips his head toward him, eyes blazing. “Excuse me?”

Matt crosses his arms, jaw tight. “She’s eighteen now, man. She can make her own decisions.”

Your brother laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Oh, fuck off with that bullshit, Matt. That’s still my sister.” His glare snaps back to you. “And you? You let some random asshole mark you up like that?”

You flinch, your breath shuddering. “I-”

“You have no fucking self-respect, do you?”

Your throat tightens, burns. Your hands tremble as you grip the table, heat stinging behind your eyes. You feel exposed, humiliated, like a child being scolded for something you barely even understand.

Matt’s jaw flexes, his fists clenching at his sides. His whole body tenses, like he’s barely keeping himself in check. But he still doesn’t step in. Not unless you decide you want him to.

Because this is your secret to tell.

Your brother scoffs again, shaking his head. “Fucking pathetic.”

Your chair scrapes loudly against the floor as you shove yourself up, your vision blurring. “Fuck you.” Your voice cracks, half anger, half tears, but you don’t care.

You turn on your heel and storm out.

You hear Matt curse under his breath, hear your brother mutter something, but you don’t stop. You run down the hall, slamming your door shut behind you before collapsing onto your bed, pressing your face into your pillow as hot, embarrassed tears spill down your cheeks.

It was late now. Almost midnight- maybe even one in the morning. You’ve barely moved from your bed since breakfast, too embarrassed, too humiliated to face anyone, especially Matt.

He didn’t do anything wrong. He didn’t defend you the way you wished, but he also didn’t throw you under the bus. He let you decide whether or not to reveal what happened. But still some part of it was just so embarrassing.

The house is quiet, everyone already in bed. You shift under the covers, your oversized t-shirt sliding against your bare skin, your thigh-high socks still hugging your legs, providing some comfort.

The door creaks open.

A dark figure slips inside, moving carefully, deliberately. The door shuts again with a soft click and you hear the lock slide shortly after.

Your heart stammers, your stomach flipping as the shadow moves closer, the dim light from the hallway illuminating just enough of his face.

Matt.

You sit up quickly, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed, your voice a hushed whisper. “Matt?”

“Shhh,” he murmurs, his voice low, soothing.

Your pulse races as he steps closer…. closer…. until he’s right in front of you.

He drops to his knees.

Your breath stutters.

He’s kneeling in front of you, his broad hands and long fingers resting on your thighs, his eyes flickering up to yours, dark and unreadable.

Your lips part, confusion swirling in your chest. “What are you-”

“I’m sorry.”

His voice is soft, rough around the edges, like he’s been holding onto the words all day. His hands squeeze your thighs gently, his gaze never leaving yours.

“For what?” you murmur, genuinely confused.

“For leaving marks,” he says, his fingers tracing lightly over the sensitive skin of your thighs. “I wasn’t thinking.”

You blink, still dazed. “I- I didn’t even know they were there.”

Matt exhales sharply, his jaw clenching.

“I don’t even really know what hickeys are,” you admit, your voice small, unsure.

His lips part slightly, his brows drawing together like your innocence physically pains him. Then, slowly, he drops his forehead onto your thighs, his warm breath fanning over your skin.

“I’m still sorry,” he murmurs, voice muffled against your legs. “It’s my fault.”

Your stomach flutters, your fingers twitching at your sides. You should probably be upset. But all you can focus on is the weight of his head resting against your thighs, the way his hands grip you so gently, as if he’s afraid to hold you too tight.

“It… didn’t hurt or anything,” you murmur.

Matt huffs a quiet laugh against your skin, his breath hot against your bare legs. “That’s not the point, angel.”

There’s a pause, heavy, thick with something you don’t understand.

“What did it feel like?”

Your fingers twitch where they rest against the sheets, your legs pressing together slightly on instinct. You weren’t expecting that question.

“I…. I don’t know,” you stammer, heat creeping up your neck.

Matt lifts his head slightly, his dark eyes flickering up to yours, waiting. “Yes, you do,” he murmurs.

You exhale shakily, your entire body buzzing. You hesitate, then admit, “It… felt like it did yesterday.”

Matt’s gaze sharpens. His fingers flex against your thighs, his grip tightening just slightly. “And what was that?”

Your lips part, but the words won’t come. You’re too flustered, too hot, your thighs squeezing together again as the memory of last night floods your mind.

Matt just watches you.

“Warm,” you whisper, barely audible. “And… and needy.”

His jaw clenches, his fingers sliding higher.

“Where?”

You suck in a breath, unable to say it, so instead, you let your gaze flicker downward. Down to where his hands are still crawling up your thighs, where the warmth is building again, pulsing, aching.

Matt follows your gaze, and when he looks back up at you, his expression changes.

He moves slowly and lowers his head, his breath warm as his lips graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. Your fingers dig into the sheets, your stomach flipping, your entire body locking up as he keeps going.

Lower.

Lower.

Until his nose brushes the soft crevice between your thighs, his face pressing directly against the heat radiating from your core.

Your breath shatters.

Matt doesn’t move.

Doesn’t speak.

Just stays there.

Breathing you in.

Letting you feel it.

Your entire body tenses, frozen in place, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. His hands tighten on your thighs, keeping you right where he wants you.

He does nothing. Just lets the weight of his presence sink into you. Like he’s claiming you. Without even touching you.

Matt stays still for a moment, just breathing against you, the warmth of his face pressing into the heat radiating from your core. His grip on your thighs tightens, and then slowly he nuzzles his head deeper, his nose pressing against the soft, sensitive space between your legs.

A soft, strained groan rumbles from his chest, vibrating against your skin.

Your entire body jolts, a sharp gasp ripping from your lips as your back arches involuntarily, your fingers gripping the sheets for something to ground you.

“Matt…” your voice comes out breathy, shaking. “Why are you… putting your head… there?”

He doesn’t answer.

Not at first.

He just stays there, pressed against you, breathing you in like he needs it, like the heat between your thighs is suffocating him but he still wants more.

Slowly, he lifts his head.

His pupils are blown, dark and hungry, his cheeks flushed, lips parted slightly as his gaze locks onto yours. His breath is heavy, his chest rising and falling like he’s trying to control himself but he can’t.

His voice is thick, strained.

“Because it doesn’t just make me feel warm and needy.” His grip on you tightens, his jaw clenching. “No… it makes me feel even better than on fire.”

Your lips part, your stomach twisting. “Even better than on fire?”

Matt exhales sharply, his eyes flickering down, back to where his face had just been.

Then without hesitation he drops his head again, his nose pressing into you even firmer this time. His arms slide around you, wrapping around your lower back, his hands gripping your thighs, pulling you closer against his face like he needs to feel you.

You let out a small, shaky whimper as your body jerks forward, pressing even more against him.

Matt groans again, his fingers digging into your skin, his breath hot against you.

“Yes,” he rasps, voice muffled against your thighs. “Even better than on fire.”

Matt stays pressed against you, his warm breath fanning over the sensitive heat between your thighs. His grip tightens on your hips, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh as he pulls you impossibly closer.

And then he pushes his nose deeper.

A sharp, unexpected shock runs through you as he nudges against something sensitive, something that makes your entire body jerk. A moan slips past your lips before you can stop it- a high, breathy, and completely foreign to your own ears. Just like the sound yesterday but even worse.

Your eyes widen immediately, a gasp catching in your throat as you slap a hand over your mouth. Your body tenses, heat flooding every inch of your skin.

“Matty-” your voice is shaky, breathless. “What was that?”

Matt stays still, his nose still buried between your thighs, his breath slow and deliberate as he exhales against the damp fabric of your underwear. When he finally pulls back just enough to meet your eyes, his expression is unreadable.

“What?” he murmurs, his voice low, teasing.

Before you can respond, he does it again.

Another press of his nose, deliberate and slow, right against that same spot.

Your entire body twitches. Your back arches slightly, another sound escaping your throat, softer this time- more desperate.

“That,” you gasp, your fingers clutching at the sheets beneath you, your head tilting back slightly. “That feels really…”

You trail off, your face burning, your breathing uneven as you struggle to even form the words.

Matt watches you carefully, his lips parting slightly, his jaw tight as he exhales through his nose. Then, he leans in again, pressing another slow, intentional nudge against that same spot.

“That’s a spot on girls,” he murmurs against you, his breath hot through the fabric. “It helps you feel really, really good.” His thumbs rub soothing circles into your hips. “Do you feel good when I do that?”

You whimper, the sound soft and helpless as your hands instinctively fly to his hair, your fingers gripping the strands without thinking. Your thighs tremble slightly around his head as another rush of warmth pools deep in your stomach.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you barely manage to whisper-

“…Yes.”

Matt watches you carefully, his breathing slow and controlled despite the tension crackling between you like fire. His hands, still gripping your thighs, slowly slide up, slipping beneath the oversized t-shirt hanging loosely over your frame. His palms are warm against your bare skin, fingertips tracing soft, teasing patterns as he pushes the fabric up, exposing more of you to him.

“You want me to keep goin’, angel?” His voice is low, rough, thick with something dangerous.

You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod.

Without thinking you press your fingers deeper into his hair, giving the slightest push, an unconscious plea.

His pupils darken instantly, his lips parting as a low groan escapes him. But it’s not just that. It’s the way your thighs instinctively spread wider, granting him more access without even realizing it.

“Fuck,” Matt breathes, his grip tightening on your hips for a moment before he leans back in.

The first press of his nose is slow, testing, just like before.

And then- he flicks it.

A sharp, teasing nudge directly against that sensitive spot.

Your entire body jerks, a gasp breaking from your lips, your thighs twitching around his head. But Matt doesn’t stop. No, he keeps doing it. Slow at first as always, up and down, teasing motions that make your breath stutter and your grip in his hair tighten.

Then he groans. Low, deep, and vibrating against you.

The sensation sends another shockwave through your body, and a soft, helpless moan slips past your lips.

“Yeah?” Matt murmurs against you, his voice thick with need. “That feel good, sweetheart?”

You can’t even respond properly. Just a breathless, desperate whimper as your hips shift slightly, pressing closer.

Matt smirks against you before dragging his nose up, then back down, rubbing slow, torturous circles against you before flicking against that sensitive spot again.

A choked moan rips from your throat, your body reacting before your mind can catch up, your thighs trembling around him.

“Fuck, angel,” Matt groans again, his voice gravelly and wrecked, like he’s barely holding himself together. “You sound so fuckin’ sweet.”

He presses harder, a slow, teasing drag, and your body shakes, another desperate whimper slipping free.

Your head tilts back, fingers gripping his hair tightly, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths.

Matt lets out another ragged groan, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he keeps going, his voice muffled but still deliberate-

“Let me hear you, sweetheart.”

And when he flicks his nose just right again, you do.

Matt groans against you, the vibrations sending another sharp wave of pleasure through your body. His hands grip your thighs tighter, his fingers flexing like he’s desperate to hold you in place.

You are a mess.

Your breath is ragged, your legs trembling as he keeps going, dragging his nose in slow, deliberate motions against that sensitive spot. Every flick, every press, every little nuzzle makes your thighs twitch, makes another helpless moan spill from your lips.

Matt loves it.

You can feel how much he loves it. The way his grip tightens, the way his breathing turns heavier, the way his groans slip out with every little movement.

“Fuck,” he mutters against you, voice wrecked. “You’re shaking.”

You are. Your thighs are trembling under his touch, your hands fisted tightly in his hair, your entire body burning.

“Feels so- mhphh- feel so good,” you gasp, barely able to speak through the overwhelming sensation.

Matt groans at that, his grip on you tightening.

“You like that, yeah?” he murmurs, flicking his nose against you again, making you arch. “Like me making you feel good?”

You can only nod, breathless, your fingers tugging at his hair as another moan slips from your lips.

Matt smirks against you before dragging his nose up again, then back down, teasing you, working you up so slowly you feel like you’re going to lose your mind.

“Matty,” you whimper, voice shaking.

He hums in response, the deep sound sending another shudder through your body.

“You sound so fuckin’ sweet, angel,” he groans. “So perfect.”

And then he does it again. A slow, firm press, his nose nudging against you just right, and your entire body jerks, another sharp, desperate moan breaking from your throat.

Matt can feel it- the way your body is trembling under his touch, the way your fingers are gripping his hair tightly, like you need something to anchor you through the overwhelming sensations rolling through you.

His lips part against your nearly soaked through panties, his breath hot and ragged as he presses in deeper, his nose dragging slow, deliberate movements that make you whimper, make your back arch off the bed.

“Oh my- Matt,” you gasp, voice breathless and shaking.

He groans, his grip on your thighs tightening. “That’s it, angel,” he mutters against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure through your core. “Let me hear you.”

You barely register what you’re doing. Your body acts before your brain can catch up. Your thighs spread more, giving him better access, and he takes full advantage.

His movements become more focused, more precise, flicking his nose against that exact spot over and over again, pressing firmer, dragging the tip up and down before pushing in harder.

Your breath shatters, a high-pitched whimper slipping from your lips.

“Oh-”

Matt groans deeply, his voice thick with need. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasps. “You’re shaking so much.”

You really are, too. Your legs trembling around his head, your stomach clenching with each movement he makes.

“Feels…” You gasp sharply as another flick sends you spiraling, your hands tightening in his hair. “Feels so-”

Matt hums again, the deep vibration sparking another moan from you.

“I know, angel,” he breathes, dragging his nose in slow, torturous strokes against you. “I know. Just let go.”

Your entire body tenses, heat pooling low in your stomach, coiling tighter, tighter. The pressure is overwhelming, so much more than anything you’ve ever felt, building and building until-

A sharp flick. A firm press.

You break.

A soft, desperate cry escapes you as your entire body shatters, waves of pleasure crashing over you, your thighs clamping around his head as you tremble, gasping for air.

Matt groans as he feels you come undone beneath him, his grip firm, his voice wrecked as he murmurs, “That’s it, angel. Let me feel you.”

Your hands tighten in his hair, your body writhing beneath him as he keeps going, drawing it out, letting you ride the high until you’re left breathless, limp against the bed, completely spent.

He finally pulls back, his breath heavy, his lips parted as he looks up at you with pure hunger.

He watches you, his breath still ragged, his pupils dark and hungry as he takes in the sight of you. Of your body trembling, your chest rising and falling in uneven breaths, your thighs still twitching from the overwhelming sensation coursing through you.

Without a word, he leans back in.

Your breath catches as he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up the soaking wet fabric of your underwear, the heat of his tongue pressing firmly against the sensitive spot he had just been teasing mercilessly with his nose.

Your whole body jolts, a small whimper slipping from your lips as he finally pulls away.

Matt exhales heavily, his breath warm against your skin as he lifts his head, resting his cheek against your thigh, his hands still gripping them firmly, keeping you open.

And then he looks up at you, his expression something almost possessive flickering behind his gaze.

“You know how you asked me what cumming was?” he murmurs, his voice low, deep, dangerous.

Your breath stutters, your stomach flipping violently as you suddenly feel it- the way your body is still pulsing, the wetness between your thighs making everything too real.

Your face burns.

You inhale sharply, trying to press your legs closed out of instinct, out of sheer embarrassment, but Matt’s hands immediately tighten around your thighs, keeping them spread.

You let out a small, flustered whimper, your body still oversensitive, still buzzing, and Matt’s lips twitch into a knowing smirk as he trails a single finger along the wet fabric, pressing just lightly, just enough to make your breath hitch.

His voice drops, his tone laced with something smug, something possessive.

“That was cumming.”

Your chest rises and falls as your body continues to hum with the aftershocks of what just happened.

You swallow hard, blinking down at Matt, who’s still resting his cheek against your thigh, watching you with an intensity that makes your stomach flip.

You shift slightly, trying to process everything, your fingers gripping the sheets beneath you as your mind struggles to catch up. “Oh,” you whisper, your voice soft, dazed. “That was the… release you were talking about.”

Matt exhales sharply, his lips twitching into a smirk. “Yeah,” he murmurs, his voice still thick with desire. “That was the release.”

Your body shudders again as you feel it- another slow, warm trickle of something leaking through your already soaking underwear, your thighs twitching at the sensation. You shift slightly, uncomfortable, still feeling so sensitive.

Matt notices.

His eyes darken as he watches the way you move, his grip tightening on your thighs. He pulls them further apart, just slightly, just enough to get a better view of your cum leaking through your underwear.

Your breath catches, your face burning, and you stutter, your voice barely above a whisper. “W-was that what you meant when you said you were going to be inside me?”

The instant the words leave your lips, Matt’s entire body tenses.

His fingers dig into your thighs, his jaw clenching as his head drops for a moment, his chest rising and falling in slow, controlled breaths like he’s trying to keep himself in check.

You blink down at him, confused by his reaction, watching as he visibly composes himself before finally lifting his head again.

His pupils are blown, his cheeks flushed, but when he meets your gaze, he manages a smirk, shaking his head slightly.

“No, sweetheart,” he murmurs, his voice rough, strained. “Not quite.”

You pout, shifting slightly again, still feeling the lingering ache between your legs. “I haven’t earned it yet?”

Matt huffs a quiet laugh, his smirk deepening as he tilts his head, dragging his thumbs slowly up your inner thighs, his gaze locked onto yours.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, his voice dripping with promise as he stands up and kisses your forehead. “Go to sleep.”

You simply nod, closing your eyes and flopping back on the bed, eyes already fluttering shut.

Matt watches you turn over and then walks toward your door.

The moment your door clicks shut, Matt exhales sharply, pressing his forehead against the wood and gripping the door handle hard. His knuckles turn white from the pressure, his breathing still ragged, still uneven. His entire body is tight- burning, aching, straining against the very last threads of his self-control.

Jesus Christ.

He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to steady himself, but it’s fucking impossible. Not after what just happened. Not after you looked at him like that, asked him those questions with your wide, innocent eyes, spread your legs for him like it was natural, like you trusted him with your body in a way that made him feel both honored and fucking ruined.

And then your sweet oblivious little mouth just had to ask if that was what he meant when he said he’d be inside you.

Matt groans under his breath, his jaw clenching so tight it aches. He can still see you, still feel the heat of you against his face, the way you twitched, gasped, moaned for him. His name had slipped from your lips like a prayer, and fuck- he had almost lost himself right then and there.

He had barely. Barely. Held himself together.

But now?

Now, he’s alone.

Now, there’s nothing stopping him.

His hands shake as he shoves down the waistband of his sweatpants, the thick pressure of his arousal almost painful at this point. His cock is aching, flushed and leaking, proof of just how much you had affected him- proof of just how fucking desperate he is for you.

A harsh breath leaves his lips as he wraps a fist around himself, finally getting the friction he needs. His head tilts back slightly, his other hand pressed flat against the wooden door as he strokes himself, letting his mind wander exactly where it wants to go.

You.

Your flushed face, your swollen lips, the way your breath had stuttered every time he pressed against your clit, how you had gasped when you came, how your fingers had tangled in his hair, tugging, holding him there like you never wanted him to leave.

Fuck.

Matt squeezes his eyes shut, his jaw tightening as he picks up the pace, his breath turning uneven, ragged. His hips jerk into his fist, and his mind spirals further- what if he hadn’t stopped? What if he had really shown you what it meant to have him inside you? What if he had been buried between your thighs, licking into you, tasting you properly, making you come again, and again, and again, until you were crying his name, begging for more-

His breath shudders, his stomach tightening, his grip firm as he chases it. He was so fucking close, so wound up, his body on fire, his thighs tensing as a low, guttural groan rumbles from his chest.

It crashes into him fast, hard- his release ripping through him in sharp, pulsing waves as he cups his tip with his other hand, catching the release in his palm so he doesn’t cum on the floor. His hand slows, his chest rising and falling in deep, heavy breaths, his entire body thrumming from the intensity of it.

For a moment, he just stands there, his palm still wrapped around himself, hand full of his cum, and his head tilted backward.

He quickly rushes himself to the bathroom, and clean up. it isn’t until he washes his hands in the sink that the thought briefly crosses his mind. He drags a hand down his face. What if your brother had walked out? Or worse, your father?

But Matt wasn’t truly thinking about that. Not at all.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his body still buzzing from the release and somehow still aching for more.

It should’ve been enough. Should’ve. But it wasn’t.

Not even close.

Because the second he dries his hands and leans against the counter, gripping the cool edge with both hands, his mind betrays him, replaying every single fucking second of what had just happened all over again.

The way you looked at him. The way you gasped when he touched you. The way your voice had trembled when you whispered his name, all breathless and needy, like you needed him, like you had never felt anything like that before.

His jaw clenches, his fingers flexing against the counter, his body already stirring back to life, heat curling low in his stomach again.

He groans under his breath, shoving a hand through his hair. His body is still so wired, still so fucking hard, and he knows there’s only one way to fix it.

He turns the faucet on, letting the water run as he braces himself over the sink, staring at his own reflection. His pupils are blown, his skin still flushed, his chest rising and falling too fast.

He can still smell you on his face.

His grip tightens on the edge of the sink, his breath coming out in a slow, shaky exhale.

Then, without hesitation, he shoves his sweatpants down again, his cock already achingly hard once more.

He barely has time to wrap a fist around himself before his hips jerk into his palm, the sensation making him groan low in his throat.

His hand moves so very slow. He was teasing, taunting, and dragging the pleasure out in long, torturous strokes, just like he had done to you.

Fuck, angel, his mind taunts, replaying his own words against his skull. You sound so fuckin’ sweet.

His breathing shudders, his grip tightening. A deep groan rips from his throat, his strokes faster now, his hips chasing the sensation.

But it’s not enough.

He needs more.

He needs to see you again.

His jaw clenches as he yanks his phone off the counter, flicking the camera on and angling it towards the mirror. His pupils are blown, his chest flushed, his cock thick and leaking, his hand wrapped tight around himself.

He groans again, dropping his own dick to grab his shirt, pulling it between his teeth before returning to the throbbing member, pumping it a few times before snapping a few pictures.

After talking that he tilts the phone downward, recording for a few seconds as he slowly strokes himself, watching the way his abs tense as he fucks into his own hand.

He imagines sending it to you as he puts the phone facedown back on the counter.

Imagines your innocent little gasp when you see it.

Imagines your wide, curious eyes as you whisper, Matty, why does it look like that?

Imagines himself teaching you.

A ragged moan tears from his throat, his body tensing, his stomach tightening as the heat coils in his spine, building- building- building-

Until he shatters again.

His breath stutters, his hand slowing, his body pulsing, his release spilling over his fingers in thick, hot waves.

His jaw drops, his head tilting back, his chest heaving as he rides it out, so fucking spent that his knees nearly buckle.

He stands there for a moment, panting, gripping the counter, waiting for his body to stop shaking.

He barely has time to catch his breath before the need creeps back in for the third time. He was so sensitive and so overstimulated that he didn’t think it was even possible to be still hard. But here he was. His muscles were still tense, his skin overheated, his body thrumming with the aftershocks of release.

His cock is still hard, twitching against his abdomen, a constant, aching reminder of what he just did- and what he still wants.

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his damp hair, his jaw clenching as his fingers flex against the counter. The mirror reflects the mess he’s become- flushed cheeks, sweat-slicked skin, pupils blown so wide that his irises are barely visible.

He knows what he’s about to do is reckless.

He knows he shouldn’t.

But that innocent little pout you gave him earlier? The way you whispered, I haven’t earned it yet? The way you looked at him with those wide eyes as if you had no clue what you were actually asking for?

Fuck.

His phone is still face down on the counter.

He grabs it.

His other hand is already sliding down, already pushing his waistband down. He tilts the phone in one hand, aiming it downward as he presses record.

His fingertips skim down his stomach, dragging over his tightened abs, the muscles twitching under his touch. He hisses softly, teasing himself, delaying the inevitable as he traces the sharp lines of his obliques, feeling the tension coil again, deeper, tighter.

His cock jumps, aching for attention, the head still slick and sensitive from his last orgasm. But he doesn’t grip himself yet- not yet.

Instead, he lets his fingers tease, barely brushing the flushed tip, smearing the remnants of his cum across his skin, feeling the hot, sticky slickness coat his fingertips.

A low groan vibrates from his chest as he swirls his thumb over the head, his body jerking at the overstimulation.

“Fuck-”

The sound echoes in the bathroom, rough and needy.

He sets the phone down on the counter, leaning against the wall so his face is now in frame too, his breath coming out uneven as his fingers finally wrap around himself again.

The first stroke is a torturous drag from base to tip. His grip was firm but not tight, just enough to make his hips stutter forward, chasing the friction.

His breath shudders, his stomach tightening as he squeezes just a little harder, dragging his fist back down.

He rolls his hips into his hand, setting a rhythm. Slow but deep, each stroke sending a sharp pulse of pleasure up his spine.

He starts to buck his hips up, his thumb circling the leaking tip before dragging back down along the vein running the underside of his shaft.

His pace picks up, his grip tighter now, his strokes longer, firmer, his abs flexing with every sharp movement.

A growl rumbles in his throat as he tilts his head back, his jaw going slack as his pleasure builds, stronger, heavier, deeper.

His thighs tense as he pumps his fist faster, his breath coming out in harsh, ragged pants, sweat beading at his temple as his body coils tight, tight, tight-

The tension is blistering, a sharp, almost painful heat curling at the base of his spine, twisting through his muscles, spreading everywhere.

His chest heaves, his entire body locking up as his strokes turn sloppy, desperate, chasing the sharp edge of release that’s so fucking close-

“Fuck, Y/N-”

The moment your name falls from his lips, his body shatters.

A deep moan tears from his throat as pleasure crashes through him hard, blinding and nearly unbearable.

Thick ropes of release spill over his fist again, streaking hot across his stomach, dripping onto his abs as his body shakes, his thighs genuinely trembling with the aftershocks.

His strokes slow, his breath stuttering, his muscles clenching and unclenching drastically as he rides it out, his head dropping forward, sweat dampening his hair.

For a few moments, the only sound in the bathroom is his ragged breathing, the soft hum of the ventilation fan, the faint creak of the counter as he braces against it.

His hand is still wrapped around himself, sticky and hot.

His phone screen flickers.

And that’s when he realizes-

The video was still recording.

The entire thing.

The sharp, filthy sounds of his pleasure, the way he groaned your name, the way his body unraveled for you.

And before he can think, before he can talk himself out of it, his finger hovers over send.

And then he presses it.

a/n: yall wanted a part 2 so bad so here you go🧡🧡 lmk if u want a part 3

PART THREE OUT NOW

MASTERLIST

for @mattsobvimyfav

tags: @ilovejohnnieguilbertsblog @mattsturnii @starstrucktyrantinfluencer @watercolorskyy @strangecatpeach @katie1002 @1ovesiick @slut4christopherr @mattgirl4eva @mayalovesturn @chriss-slutt @sturniolohohoho @courta13 @izzylovesmatt @matthewsturnsgf @aaa-mi @bigbeefybitch @hopelesslydevotedsstuff @wastelandzella @yourmother29 @whore4-chrissturniolo @idefinitelyhateu @madisonnxtdoor22 (if u wanna be on the taglist, just comment)

[piggytfs]

Colton had always seemed like the perfect guy. He was in the prime of his life with a jacked physique, smoldering blue eyes, and a cocky smirk that made both men and women swoon. He was the king of the gym, the star of his university’s football team, and the kind of guy who turned heads wherever he went. Sometimes, this was an awesome thing. Like when the cheerleader babes would eye him up like a sexy slab of all American beef. He loved to show off his muscles for them, listening to them giggle and squeal.

However, he didn't like being ogled by just anyone. Some dudes were oblivious to the hints he would drop: that he was in no way, shape, or form interested in their pathetic, gay attention.

Which was why he hated the way his doctor, Dr. Reynolds, kept looking at him as if he was about to blow a disgusting load into his XL work khakis.

The older man was always too touchy during checkups, his eyes lingering just a little too long on the younger man's biceps and firm pecs. It made Colton’s skin crawl. As he sat on the exam table, dressed in nothing but his compression shorts, he felt those eyes scanning over his muscles again. Dr. Reynolds was eyeing Colton's girthy package, moments away from drooling.

“Man, I wish you’d stop looking at me like that,” Colton muttered hatefully under his breath.

A chill ran down his spine. The air in the room seemed to shift — something he couldn't perceive, but he could not deny that something had begun to change. Dr. Reynolds blinked, his expression becoming blank and flat, before his lips curled into an amused grin.

“Looking at you like what, Colton?” the doctor asked, his voice laced with condescension. He had never spoken so haughtily before. “Like I’d ever be interested in you?”

Colton frowned. That wasn’t right. Dr. Reynolds had definitely been checking him out less than a second ago. The man was a fat perv who drooled over his hot athlete patients, this wasn't far from the normal experience. “Dude, you were just—”

Colton's stomach lurched so violently that he couldn't stop the URRRRRRRRRRRRRP that erupted out of his mouth. A deep, guttural gurgle started to brew inside his belly. He gasped, gripping his gut as an unbearable heat spread through his body. Sweat collected on his forehead, dripping down the sides of his body as his pits became slick and hairy. His skin tingled, rippled, then started to sag under the new weight.

He stared in horror at the full body mirror propped up against the wall, watching as his reflection warped before his very eyes. His sculpted pecs deflated, drooping into soft, flabby moobs. Curls of dark, wiry hair began to sprout across his aging skin. His tight six-pack was swallowed by lard as thick rolls of fat spilled over the waistband of his shorts. They had fit snugly before, but now they were far too tight. His thighs swelled, losing their lean definition as they turned into fat, pale slabs of dimpled hairy flesh that rubbed together, sticky with sweat. The smells wafting off his changing body made Colton want to gag.

“What the fuck?” he gasped, his voice cracking, higher, wheezier — wrong.

Dr. Reynolds chuckled. But his nasally voice seemed different — his slouchy posture was correcting itself — the old pervy doctor was being transformed, too! His hunched shoulders began to straighten, his immense potbelly retreating into an increasingly sculpted core as abdominal muscles pressed against his much smaller, tighter shirt. All the fat on his body began to melt away as years of neglect were reversing before Colton’s eyes. Dr. Reynold's graying hair darkened, growing thick and healthy. His wrinkles faded into smooth, taut skin. His pasty complexion was now bronzed and glowing.

“Colton, please settle down. This is your usual checkup, nothing more. And quit cussing — you of all people should know better,” Dr. Reynolds said, but his voice was deeper now, stronger, more confident. His lab coat suddenly fit better, snug against a chest that was now larger than Colton's had ever been. Even the man's biceps looked larger, veins running across the surface.

“What?” Colton wheezed, struggling to pull up his compression shorts as they dug painfully into his growing gut and fat pad. But the fabric was changing beneath his fingertips — stretching, darkening —becoming ratty sweatpants stained with grease and even grosser liquids.

“You’re always acting like a nervous wreck when you come in here,” Dr. Reynolds went on, now casually adjusting the very tight sleeves of his tailored hospital uniform. “You’d think you’d be used to it by now. How many times have I told you to cut back on the junk food? Christ, Colton, you really have ballooned since last visit.”

“No, no, no—” Colton gripped his thickening face, his bloated fingers sinking into new layers of soft, jowly fat. His chiseled jawline was buried beneath multiple chins, his sharp cheekbones lost forever beneath two fat dimples. His now greasy hair thinned before his eyes, receding higher and higher up his forehead. His nose widened, nostrils flaring as they twitched from the rancid stench that rose from his body.

Sweat. Cum. Food. Gas.

These were the things that defined him now.

Dr. Reynolds— younger, stronger, undeniably out of Colton's league — waved a large hand in front of his face, grimacing at the foul stench. “Jesus, did you even shower before coming in? Or is that just how you always smell?”

Colton’s mind reeled in confusion. He could still feel his old self somewhere, buried beneath all the blubber, the sweat, the stink. This wasn’t real—this wasn’t him! His chest hair begun to turn white, his balding hair turning gray as a salt-and-pepper beard erupted across his fat chins.

“I’m not—” he gasped in exhaustion. “I’m not—”

The words caught in his throat. He was losing the battle to remain himself.

Dr. Reynolds smirked, beginning to remove his now perfectly-fitted coat, muscles rippling with his every movement. “Not what? Not some fat, pathetic, gay slob who spends more time shoveling junk food into his face than actually taking care of himself?” He scoffed, his beautiful face glaring down at Colton like he was the smallest morbidly obese man in the world. “Colton, be serious for once in your life. When’s the last time you even saw the inside of a gym?”

Colton had just been at the gym — he had been hitting the weights all morning long before his check up! Pumping iron, running drills! He had done all of these things! But even as he reached for those memories of himself as a young and disciplined jock, they slipped away, replaced by something else — something that terrified him.

Hazy images of stained couch cushions arose in his conflicted mind, fast food wrappers strewn across his disgusting apartment. Late nights spent online on gainer forums took root in his brain, scrolling through mukbang videos while stuffing his own face. He vividly recalled jerking off to images of fit jocks who wouldn't even spit on him if he were on fire.

His stomach roared, suddenly starving, and he felt his mouth water at the thought of a greasy double cheeseburger and some extra-large fries.

“No…” Colton whimpered, shaking his fat head, his chins jiggling with the motion. His once proud cock had shrunken beneath his growing fat pad, but he could still feel it throbbing, rubbing against his folds as his massive body wobbled with each breath. It felt like he was balancing a beachball on his lap. And it was inflated to the point it was about to pop.

Dr. Reynolds scribbled something down on his clipboard, his biceps bulging slightly as he moved. Colton's little nub of a cock got harder, his fat lips glistening with drool. “Well, old man, we’re gonna have to talk about your cholesterol again. Not that you’ve ever listened to me before. You’re lucky I even let you keep coming in — most guys your size just give up on doctors entirely.” The young man chuckled, voice smooth, self-assured. “Then again, I guess you have given up, huh?”

Colton tried to protest, to fight, but his body ached — his back was sore from carrying so much weight, and his thick thighs were chafing with every tiny movement. His gut gurgled again, demanding food, reminding him of who he was — who he had always been. An obese, smelly old man who was addicted to porn; who got off to young jocks teasing him for being such a fucking loser.

Reality snapped into place around him.

Dr. Reynolds sighed, shaking his handsome head as he handed Colton a prescription slip. His hand was strong, veined, perfect, as Colton’s thick sausage fingers struggled to take it. “Here. Not that you’ll actually do anything about it, but at least it makes me feel better.”

Colton looked down at the slip. His chubby fingers struggled to grip the paper, smudged with sweat and burger grease he couldn't be assed to wash off. His name at the top was the same, but… had he ever been that perfect, sculpted jock that was still lingering in his mind? Had he really played football, been admired by his peers, been wanted by anyone in a sexual sense?

Or had he always been this old, flatulent lard ass loser?

“Get outta here, Colton,” Dr. Reynolds said, already moving on to the next file. His grin was smug, confident, gleaming. “And try not to waddle too much on your way out.”

Colton got up and rubbed his sagging, bloated belly as he marched out of the room. He knew there was no helping his waddle, but he found himself blushing in shame as his wide ass cheeks jiggled behind him. As he left the room, Colton squeezed out a nasty, droning fart. His tiny cock was squirting pre into his fat pad folds.

A distant voice in his mind was screaming for mercy, but the new Colton just got off on the sheer weight of his obese body, the knowledge that his handsome, young doctor thought he was disgusting. Fuck. This was the only reason he still showed up to his appointments.

This old perv needed to get home and order some fast food and start jerking to his favorite jock porn immediately! He'd consider actually reading his prescription slip tomorrow.

(this story is a reimagined version of Athlete No More by the iconic @bigfuckingdudes)

[greengoblinswifey]

Swim

summary— your dad’s best friend accompanies your family on a trip to California and things take an unexpected turn.

pairing— dad’s best friend!rafe x fem!reader

warnings— age gap(rafe is 40, reader is 20), unprotected sex, creampie, choking, ass slapping, degrading kink, praise kink, daddy kink, face fucking, fingering, reader is referred to as little girl by rafe a few times.

Part II

The sun glistened off the California shoreline, warm against your deep skin tone as you strutted along the beach in your skimpy black thong bikini. The ocean breeze felt good, and you were aware of the heads turning as a few boys nearby tried to catch your attention, throwing casual compliments your way. Your dad noticed and frowned from his chair, clearly uncomfortable with what you were wearing.

“She’s still your little girl, man, but she’s not a little girl anymore,” Rafe Cameron, your dad’s best friend’s voice cut through the air, smooth and relaxed. He sat next to your dad, sunglasses on, trying to look nonchalant. But you caught him staring, his eyes roamed your body, lingering just a bit too long on your curves. You bit your lip, pretending not to notice, but you could feel his gaze burning into you.

“Still, that bikini’s a bit much, don’t you think?” your dad muttered, flipping his book shut and shaking his head.

Rafe chuckled lowly. “She’s twenty, dude. You can’t control what she wears forever. And trust me, plenty of girls her age wear less.” He was trying to sound casual, but you didn’t miss the way his voice dipped, almost possessive. You smirked to yourself, knowing full well you’d caught his eye. The man you’d be pining after for as long as you could remember.

Your dad sighed, grumbling under his breath as he pulled his sun hat lower and reclined back, clearly defeated. Rafe’s eyes were still on you as your mom walked over to rub sunscreen on your dad’s shoulders. With your dad’s attention elsewhere, you decided to push the boundaries.

You walked over to where Rafe was sitting, your hips swaying slightly as you approached. “You two used to swim a lot back in Kildare, right?” you asked innocently, tilting your head as you looked at him. “Wanna join me for a swim, Rafe?”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “Yeah, we did. And you’re right, I could use a dip.” He stood up, tall and broad, and pulled off his shirt, revealing his toned chest. Your stomach tightened just watching him, the tension between you thick and undeniable.

You both glided into the cool water, and you felt his large hand subtly rest on your lower back as you moved deeper into the waves. Every little touch sending a pulse of heat through your body. As you floated in the water, one of the boys who had been hitting on you earlier passed by, smirking.

“I didn’t peg you for the caregiver type,” he sneered, glancing from you to Rafe with a raised brow.

Before Rafe could say something snarky, you cut in, your voice dripping with confidence. “I like my men older, and more experienced.” You met the boy’s eyes with a smirk. “You wouldn’t understand.”

Rafe let out a low chuckle beside you, clearly pleased. “Damn right, she does,” he muttered under his breath, his grip on your waist tightening slightly.

You swam a bit deeper, away from prying eyes, and Rafe stayed close, his hands accidentally grazing your ass as he floated you. You could feel him stealing glances at your chest, your perky breasts barely covered by your bikini top. The air between you two sizzled.

“Oops,” Rafe said with a teasing grin as his fingers brushed over your ass again. You knew it wasn’t an accident, but the thrill of it all only made your heart race faster.

“Careful, Rafe,” you teased, meeting his gaze with a mischievous glint. “Wouldn’t want to give anyone the wrong idea, would we?”

He laughed softly, his voice deep. “Not unless you want me to.” His words sent a shiver down your spine, the heat between you two growing. He floated closer, his body brushing against yours, and you could feel the tension crackling in the space between you.

“You’ve got quite the mouth on you, don’t you?” he murmured, his eyes flicking from your lips to your body.

“You seem to like it,” you said back, feeling bolder with each word. His eyes darkened, his hand slipping down to your hip, his fingers skimming the edge of your bikini bottom.

“Maybe I do,” he admitted, his voice husky. I’d like to fuck it, was what he wanted to say. You floated closer to him, your chest nearly brushing his as the waves gently rocked you together.

He leaned in just a little, his lips hovering near your ear. “Keep teasing me like that, and we’ll see what happens.”

You smirked, biting your lip. “Promise?”

Rafe grinned wickedly, but before he could say anything more, the sound of your family calling broke the moment. You both pulled away, but the heat between you lingered as you returned to the shore, his eyes never leaving your body.

Rafe quickly straightened up as your mom called out from the shore, waving you both over. “Dinner time!” she yelled, gesturing to the towels where your dad and brother were already sitting, towels wrapped around them.

You exchanged a quick look with Rafe before nodding and heading toward the shore. The air between you two still buzzed with everything that had happened in the water, but you both played it cool, keeping some distance now as you approached your family.

“Fun swim?” your dad asked, raising an eyebrow as he glanced between you and Rafe, though his tone was light.

“Yeah, it was great,” you replied, flashing a smile as you grabbed your towel to dry off.

Rafe casually plopped down next to your dad, pulling a beer from the cooler. “Like old times,” he said, clinking his bottle against your dad's, his tone easy, though his eyes briefly flicked over to you as you settled on the towel across from them.

As everyone settled into conversation and dinner, you couldn’t help but steal glances at Rafe. He looked relaxed, chatting with your dad like nothing was out of the ordinary, but you noticed the way his gaze lingered on you when he thought no one was watching. That same electricity sparked every time your eyes met, and you found yourself playing with the hem of your bikini absentmindedly, your thoughts drifting back to the water.

After dinner, the sun began to set, casting a warm golden glow over the beach. Your little brother and parents decided to go for a sunset walk along the shore, leaving you and Rafe behind at the towels.

“Want another swim before they get back?” Rafe asked, his voice low as he stood, extending a hand toward you.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing in the direction of your family as they walked off, before nodding and taking his hand. “Why not?” you said, your pulse quickening as he pulled you to your feet.

You both glided back into the water, the cool ocean now contrasting with the lingering heat between you. This time, when his hand brushed your lower back, there was no mistaking the intent. You turned to face him, your bodies close again, the space between you disappearing just like before.

Rafe leaned in, his lips close to your ear as he whispered, “Thought about what you said earlier, about liking older, more experienced men.”

You smirked, looking up at him through your lashes. “Still thinking about that, huh?”

He chuckled, his hand sliding down to your waist. “Hard to forget when you're parading around in that little bikini, little girl.”

You felt your heart race, the playful banter quickly turning into something more as his hand slipped lower, his fingers grazing the curve of your ass. “Rafe-” you started, but the warning in your voice was half-hearted at best.

“I can stop," he murmured, though his hands stayed where they were, "but I don’t think you want me to.”

You didn’t respond with words, but the way you pressed your body closer to his was answer enough.

Rafe pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours as the waves lapped around your legs. “We should head back,” he said, though there was a hesitant note in his voice that didn’t quite match the determination in his gaze. “This is wrong.”

“Yeah, but you’re not known for doing the right thing, are you?” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled. “No, I’m not,” he admitted, leaning closer. “You can stop this right now, you know? I won’t push you.” His gaze locked onto yours, searching for any sign of uncertainty.

You didn’t want to stop. Instead, you wrapped your legs around him, pulling him closer as you whispered, “I don’t want to stop.”

His hands moved to your ass, squeezing as he captured your lips with his. The kiss deepened, filled with urgency, as the ocean swirled around you both. Rafe broke the kiss, his breath hot against your cheek. “Use your words.”

You swallowed hard, looking into his eyes. “I want this, Rafe. I want you.”

His signature smirk appeared, the corners of his mouth curling up. “Then let’s go.”

You pulled out your phone, quickly texting your brother to cover for you. With a rush of adrenaline, you followed Rafe as he led you back to his hotel room, the weight of what you were about to do hanging in the air like a charged storm.

Once inside, the door clicked shut behind you, and Rafe turned to you, his expression a mix of mischief and desire. “We can take this slow if you want,” he said, but the way he looked at you told you he wasn’t sure he could handle that.

You didn’t want slow. You stepped into the bathroom, your heart racing as you took a deep breath. “Let’s shower,” you said, your voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions.

Rafe followed, his eyes darkening with hunger as he watched you. You turned your back to him and slowly peeled off your bikini. You glanced back at him, and you could see the awe in his eyes. “Wow,” he breathed, taking a step closer. “You’ve grown up, haven’t you?”

You smirked, biting your lip at the way he looked at you like you were a masterpiece. He slipped off his swim trunks, revealing himself, and you gasped at how impressive he was. “Wow,” you muttered, your heart racing.

Rafe stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over both of you. He pulled you against him, his hands exploring your body as you gasped at the sensation of the water mixing with his touch.

As the water poured over you, he slid his fingers down to your pussy, finding you already eager and soaked. You moaned softly as he teased you, his other hand wrapping around your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head spin.

You moaned again, the heat pooling low in your belly. “Daddy,” you whined, feeling a rush of thrill at how wrong this all was.

“Such a naughty girl,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear. “Calling me daddy when your real daddy is probably wondering where you are.” He smirked, clearly enjoying your submission. He shifted his grip, and you felt the intensity of his fingers as they curled inside you finding that sweet spot. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could hardly catch your breath.

“God, you’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. He continued teasing you, his movements becoming more urgent.

You could feel yourself on the edge, his relentless movements pushing you closer to ecstasy. Every touch sent shockwaves through you, and all you could do was surrender to the pleasure as you felt yourself about to explode.

“Do it, cum for daddy, sweet girl,” he ordered and as he did, you felt yourself let go on his fingers. Your moans filled the bathroom but were masked by the sound of the shower.

“That’s it, that’s a good little girl.”

You smiled and he finished cleaning you up before you stepped out of the shower and dried yourselves off.

Get on your knees,” he commanded softly as soon as you were out the bathroom, a mix of dominance and lust in his voice.

You looked up at him, heart racing, excitement coursing through you. There was something thrilling about this moment, something you had never experienced before. With a slight nod, you sank to your knees and looked up at him with wide, eager eyes.

Rafe smirked, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “I’m going to use your mouth like a pussy. Just like this.” He stroked your cheek, his thumb grazing your lips. “You ready?”

“Yes daddy,” you breathed, the word slipping out before you could think. You were ready for whatever he had in mind.

He guided you closer, your heart pounding as you felt his presence looming above you. “Just remember,” he said, leaning down so his lips brushed your ear, “you can always tell me to stop.”

You nodded, determination filling you. You wanted this. You wanted him. Fuck telling him to stop.

With that, he held your head firmly, guiding you as he pressed forward. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel the heat rising between you. He thrusted harshly, your breath hitching as he filled the space around you.

“Good girl,” he murmured, watching you closely, his expression a mix of pleasure and satisfaction. “You’re doing so well for your daddy.”

As you adjusted to him, he began to set a rhythm, a harsh pace that filled the hotel room with the sound of muffled breaths and gagging. You could feel his hands in your hair, holding you in place as you surrendered to the moment, feeling exhilarated as he shoved his cock into the back of your throat like there was no tomorrow

“Look at you,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. “So eager, such a perfect slut.”

The air around you was charged, and in that moment, you knew that everything had changed. You were both aware of the boundaries being pushed, the thrill of doing something forbidden igniting a fire within you.

“Daddy’s gonna cum baby, and you’re gonna swallow every last drop of my cum yeah?” You said something inaudible with his dick down your throat and he let out a mix between a chuckle and a moan.

“Here it comes slut, open up that fucking throat, yeah, fucking take it, swallow it whore.”

You nodded, parting your lips as you leaned forward, ready to please him. He watched you, eyes dark with desire as you took him in, the heat of the moment consuming you both. His hands tangled in your hair, guiding you as he thrust gently into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he praised, his breath hitching as you adjusted to him. “Just like that. Keep going.”

You complied, taking him deeper as he let go, your mouth filled with him. The sensation of him spilling into your mouth was overwhelming, and you didn’t hesitate to swallow every drop, relishing the way he looked at you afterward, part shocked, part completely enthralled.

As you caught your breath, he lifted you up from your knees by your neck, his expression shifting to one of seriousness. He threw you onto the bed, the softness of the sheets contrasting with the intensity of the moment. “If we do this, there’s no going back,” he warned, his voice low and serious. “Your dad would kill me if he found out.”

“I don’t care about that right now,” you replied, your heart racing with excitement and danger. “I only care about the daddy in front of me.”

He raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. “Is that so?”

“Yeah,” you said, biting your lip. “I want your cock, right here, right now.”

With a low chuckle, he climbed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress. “Then let’s make this count,” he said, locking eyes with you as he prepared to take you further than you ever imagined.

“Please daddy.”

With a swift motion, he captured your wrists, pinning them above your head. “Good,” he said, his lips curling into a devilish smirk. “Then let’s see how much you can take.”

He thrust into you hard, filling you completely in one smooth motion. A gasp escaped your lips as pleasure and pain intertwined, your back arching at the sudden intrusion. Rafe’s breath was hot against your ear as he pressed his weight into you, dominating the space between your bodies.

“Tightest fucking whore pussy I’ve ever had,” he groaned, pulling back and slamming into you again, harder this time. You moaned, feeling the pleasure build with each thrust. “You like that, don’t you?” he taunted, a wicked glint in his eye.

“M-mhm,” you stammered, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Use your words, baby,” he said, his grip on your wrists tightening just enough to remind you who was in control. “Tell me how good it feels.”

“It feels amazing, daddy! Don’t stop!” you cried out, your body responding to his every movement.

He released your wrists, allowing you to wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as he picked up the pace. “You’re going to be my little secret, my fucking cock slut, my baby girl,” he growled, his lips brushing against your neck as he left hot kisses along your skin. “No one else gets to see you like this. I’m going to ruin you for anyone else.”

A shiver of excitement raced down your spine at his words. “Yes, please. I want you to ruin me,” you replied breathlessly.

With a primal growl, he increased the intensity, thrusting into you with a relentless rhythm that had your body and the bed shaking. “That’s it, baby. Take it all,” he encouraged, his voice laced with raw hunger.

You could feel the tension building, coiling tighter within you. “I’m so close!” you gasped, your nails digging into his back.

“Cum for me,” he commanded, his hips driving into you with fervor. “Show me how good I make you feel.”

With a final thrust, you shattered, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you screamed daddy. Rafe followed closely behind, burying himself deep as he filled you, the heat of his release mixing with your own.

He collapsed onto you, both of you panting for breath, your bodies intertwined. “What did I tell you?” he murmured, kissing your forehead softly. “You’re mine now.”

[breadbrobin]

lavender roses

luke castellan x reader — percy jackson and the olympians

[fem!daughter of persephone reader]

summary: everyone thinks red roses are synonymous with the perfect love. you believe that lavender roses deserve more love, and luke believes that you’re worthy of all the love in the world—you’re both just bad at communicating it.

warnings: kissing, swearing, suggestive content, mentions of weapons, idiots, miscommunication trope but it’s cute dw, seriously they’re both so stupid and oblivious, besties to idiots to lovers

word count: 3.3k

(y’all i’m losing my mind i can’t stop writing but this might be one of my favourites ever)

(also i might put together a luke taglist and a clarisse taglist so lmk if you wanna be put on either of those and i’ll get to work on it 🤩)

———————————————

“i’m free february fourteenth,” you said nonchalantly.

you were sitting with luke at dinner and he’d just asked you if you ever had a day off working. as a daughter of persephone, you lived in the hermes cabin, but spent most of your time working in the strawberry fields. you spent every free moment there, soaking in the sun, helping the plants grow and picking flowers to put in vases around the cabin and infirmary.

he nodded as chris choked on his food beside him, coughing hard. ��okay, we should hang out then.”

you weren’t sure if he knew what was going on. was he messing with you? playing a joke? really wanting to hang out with you on valentine’s day? or was he having a lapse of memory and he forgot that day had any significance at all?

either way, you nodded. when you spoke, your voice was slightly higher pitched than usual. “sure.”

“we can have a picnic. we haven’t done that in a while.” he was nodding still, looking into his food with a thoughtful expression.

the air nearly left your lungs. you nodded back, though he wasn’t looking at you, and exchanged a wide-eyed look with chris across the table. sure, you and luke used to go for picnics occasionally, but that was before he’d gotten unfairly attractive overnight and you’d developed the most annoying crush on him. “yeah, sure. it’s a date.”

if you could have jumped into tartarus you would have.

what the fuck. why would you say that?

chris was staring at you in shock.

your mouth was dry.

and luke was smiling like nothing was wrong. were his cheeks red? or was that your imagination? “yup! it’s a date.”

when he got up from the table to leave after dinner, he kissed your cheek. this wasn’t too far out of the ordinary, per se—it happened occasionally—but it sent a rush of adrenaline shooting down your spine and set your cheeks aflame.

chris’ eyebrows were raised. “what was that?”

“i have no idea,” you breathed.

“do you think he knows?”

your voice was even softer as you shook your head. “dude. i have no idea.”

valentine’s day couldn’t come soon enough.

you could hardly think of anything else. zoning out in the fields, losing focus while sparring, getting distracted by luke’s shoulder muscles while he was drawing back his bow, sending your arrow flying off to the side.

he laughed at you with everyone else, coming over to stand by your side. “you good there? need any help?”

you shook your head, your quaking fingers drawing the string back once more, pulling it taut. archery wasn’t your best skill, but you weren’t terrible at it.

you could feel his eyes on you, judging your form, analysing your aim. it put you off.

your arrow barely hit the target.

luke winced. “that was… better.”

you sighed and lowered the bow. “you’re distracting me!”

he laughed. “i’m distracting you?”

“yes!” you huffed, frowning at him. his eyes were lit up with amusement. “you are.”

“well, then i’m very sorry.” he raised his hands and took a step back, dipping his head too. “as you were, milady.”

you rolled your eyes with a smile and drew your arrow back, aiming and firing, but it still didn’t do well. in fact, every arrow that you shot pierced outside of the black rings. you were starting to think there was either something wrong with the bow or that you’d been cursed by one of the apollo kids, when someone’s hand lowered your elbow.

you looked over to see luke. he wasn’t watching your face. he was guiding your elbow down so it was more level with your arrow’s line and gently pulling your shoulders back so they were more even.

“pull back a bit more,” he coached quietly.

“i know what i’m doing,” you protested.

“i know, but today you look like you need a reminder. do you want my help? or do you wanna keep missing?” he finally looked you in the eye. he was sincere, you realised.

you sighed and draw the arrow back a little more.

he nodded happily and continued guiding your stance until you were perfect, his hands hot on your body and his breath on the back of your neck. he stayed behind you as you lowered the arrow and took a few deep breaths.

you were still watching him over your shoulder. his lips quirked as he reached out and gently turned your face away to look at the target. his hand was calloused and rough, but the tough was soft. you could barely breathe.

“focus,” he said softly. “eyes on the prize.”

you’re the only prize i want, was all you could think, but you didn’t say anything. you drew the arrow back, your fingers brushing against the corner of your lips. you felt better—more powerful, more confident—in this stance. and maybe luke’s presence behind you was helping with that too. you could feel the slight ghost of his hand on your waist. it kept you grounded. it stopped you from floating away.

your arrow pierced just beside the bullseye.

luke’s hand tightened on your waist, squeezing proudly. “that’s my girl.”

your heart fluttered as you smiled. “thanks, luke.”

he patted your lower back as he stepped away. “that’s what i’m here for. go kill it.”

then he was gone, and there was a fiery pit in your stomach that grew with each passing day that told you that—oh shit—you were in fully love with luke castellan.

february fourteenth arrived in a flurry of pinks, reds and whites. hearts adorned the camp, courtesy of the aphrodite cabin, and you and the demeter cabin had been tasked with growing what felt like hundreds of red roses. personally, you didn’t understand the hype surrounding red roses. after all, the lavender ones were the prettiest. they even meant love at first sight—far better than plain old love.

but with all the love in the air and the aphrodite campers swooning left and right, luke was sure to figure out his mistake and call off the picnic. it made you feel sick with anxiety, and your hands shook as you tended to the roses.

“y/n, hey!” luke’s voice came right next to you.

you flinched and the rose bush sprouted ten feet in the air with new flowers springing into existence left and right.

“whoa…” he said, looking up at it in shock. “i don’t think we need that many.”

“i don’t think anyone needs that many.” you muttered and took a deep breath, bringing the bush back down to size. “what are you doing here, luke?” your heart was in your throat. he didn’t look upset, but he’d always been good at hiding his emotions. was he about to tell you that he didn’t want to meet up later? or that he hated you for tricking him? thoughts started spinning like tops in your mind as you sunk into worse scenario after worse scenario.

“i just wanted to make sure we were still on for this afternoon? and to let you know to meet me by the lake.” were you imagining things, or did he look almost… nervous? his cheeks were red and he wasn’t meeting your eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. was he? really?

you nodded. “oh, uh, yeah. we’re still on. i’ll meet you…?”

“at two?”

“at two.” you smiled. he smiled back and you ignored the flutter in your chest. a strand of hair blew in front of your face.

his hand twitched by his side, like he wanted to push it back, but he just nodded. “okay. see you later.”

“later,” you nodded as he walked away. “can’t wait!” you called after him. he shot a grin over his shoulder, and once he was gone, you buried your face in the rose bush with an exasperated groan.

at 1:45, you still didn’t know what to wear.

your friend becky had dragged you into the aphrodite cabin and was shoving various outfits into your arms to try on, since you didn’t have many nice outfits of your own, but nothing was right.

even though you were the same size as her, nothing seemed to fit you as well as it did her—some aphrodite’s daughter bullshit, you guessed.

she sat down on her bunk next to you and sighed. “i hate to say it, but… we’re out of options.”

you groaned and flopped backwards, covering your face.

she swatted your hands away. “you’ll smudge your makeup!” she then sat back and sighed. “honestly, hun, you might just have to go naked.”

“i’m sure he’d love that!” one of her brothers called from across the room.

you threw a pillow at him, but it dropped halfway there.

then becky froze with a gasp. “oh, my gods.”

you sat up. “what?”

“wait here.” she got up and dashed away, peering into the depths of her wardrobe.

you watched absently, kind of worried she’d pull out some sexy lingerie, as she felt around at the very back, in the corner. then her face lit up. she pulled out a dress. it was white and floaty, with tiny pale pink flowers on it and the most flattering neckline you’d ever seen. she held it out to you and then dragged you to the designated changing area beside her bunk.

you changed slowly, not wanting to rip the delicate material, then looked at yourself in the mirror.

holy shit.

becky stuck her head around the corner and gasped. “perfect! ugh, i feel like a proud mother.”

you laughed, smoothing the floaty fabric over your thighs. it was kind of staticky. “yeah, thanks, mom.”

she grabbed your arm and dragged you out, showing you off. “siblings! my magnum opus.”

as whistles and cheers came from the few people in the cabin, you smiled.

“he’ll love it,” becky whispered. “you look hot.”

“it’s not even a date,” you protested. “it’s just a hang out.”

“sweet cheeks, its a picnic on valentine’s day.” she tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. “it’s a date. now go. you’re gonna be late.”

you slipped on your white sandals and the light green jacket you always wore, let silena slip a white headband into your hair, then stepped out the door.

it wasn’t a cold day, exactly, but you were grateful for the jacket.

you rushed down the lake and got there two minutes late.

luke was no where to be found.

great, you thought. he was messing with me the whole time.

just as you were considering leaving, you heard footsteps running up to you.

“y/n! i’m so sorry, i could figure out—oh, wow...” luke stopped in his tracks as you turned around. his eyes were wide and his cheeks were red as he looked you up and down. he cleared his throat. “i didn’t know what to wear.”

he’d settled on a navy blue crew neck sweater and black jeans. his hair was messy, like he’d been running his hands through it, and he looked good. really good.

shit. that would make things more difficult.

“it’s okay,” you smiled. “neither could i.”

“well, you look… you look amazing.” his voice was soft, almost reverent.

gods, you didn’t think you’d ever be able to stop blushing. this was torture. “thanks,” you said though, pretending your heart wasn’t climbing up your throat and threatening to jump right into his hands—like suicide. “should we—“

“oh! yeah.” he nodded and stepped forward, placing a hand on your back (just low enough that it made your heart stutter, but high enough that it was innocent) and leading you towards the strawberry fields. “this way, milady.”

your heart was sinking a little as the fields came into view. everyone went to the strawberry fields. there were at least seven couples there already. it was the standard date spot. you had to remind yourself this wasn’t a date.

but he led you past the fields and into the forest.

great, so he’ll just murder me instead, you thought bitterly. it was like you were searching for a reason that it wasn’t a date now. at least i won’t have to deal with the embarrassment of everyone seeing.

you snapped out of your thoughts as his hand gently slipped into yours and you nearly fell over. he looked back at you, amused. you shot him a thumbs up as he set down a familiar path.

you knew where you were going.

there was a clearing in the woods where you went. it was you own personal secret garden, hidden deep in the forest behind a thick hedge that you’d grown yourself. it had taken weeks to get it thick enough to keep your space safe, and weeks again to regain enough strength to add any other plants to it. in the last year though, you’d been going there often, coaxing a few new plants to grow. you’d learned that forcing growth was hard and near impossible, but encouraging growth was easy.

you’d shown luke the garden one day a few months ago, just before you developed that pesky crush.

he pulled you gently in front of him to enter the garden first, through a magically shifting gap in the hedge, so that he could enter too, and stepped aside to pick up a hefty bag hidden just off the path.

you stepped through the hedge, your hand still linked with luke’s, and into your garden. it was the same as last time you were there, around a week ago; filled with flowers and bees, with a patch of clear grass in the middle, linked to the hedge by four paths, running north to south and east to west. some of the flowers growing were out of season, but as a daughter of persephone, you had a certain level of influence over things like that. bees buzzed lazily around your head as you entered, happy to see you again. everything seemed to get happier, healthier and brighter the second you stepped into the garden. it was your favourite thing and your favourite place.

you looked back at luke to see him smiling at you. “you know me too well.”

“i knew you wouldn’t like to have everyone around,” he shrugged. “and i wanted to see this place again. it’s better than last time i was here.” he looked around in wonder.

“well, last time you were here, i’d just gotten over the flu, so i was still pretty weak. all of my hydrangeas wilted.” you pouted and crossed the garden to your hydrangea bush, blooming in all ranges of colours. soil acidity and pH didn’t matter if you were the daughter of persephone.

luke laid down a plaid picnic blanket as you murmured a few words to some of your weaker looking plants, breathing life back into them. you could feel his eyes on you as he sat and waited, but you didn’t feel rushed or observed. more than anything, you felt admired.

finally, you sat next to him. he’d set out some food and water bottles for the two of you. he was prepared. that was one thing about luke castellan: he was prepared, always two steps ahead. which is why this didn’t make sense.

as you started eating, you found yourself staring at a lavender rose bush. love at first sight, you mused. if only.

you’d fallen for luke after a whole year of friendship. that made it worse. you’d loved him already, platonically, then, without warning, those feeling shifted. the way you looked at him changed in a matter of moments. when he’d gotten cherries on his plate for dessert after you were told you couldn’t have more, then he’d given them all to you, claiming he didn’t like them (even though you knew he did), you fell stupidly, irrevocably, in love. but the way he looked at you never changed: always soft, always kind and always the same.

you were drawn to look at him. you always were. the sharp lines and soft curves of his face. those dark eyes that made your heart flutter never wavered as they met yours. never shifted, never darkened, never clouded with anger. never. they were as constant as time, as reliable as the tide, as predictable as the full moon coming around again.

and he was looking at you now. “what?” he asked.

you blinked and looked away, watching as two bees clumsily bumped into each other and went on their way. “nothing.” would that be you and luke? two bees bumping into each other briefly, then going on with their lives? unlikely to cross paths again? you couldn’t let that happen.

“you know it’s valentine’s, right?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

luke lowered his apple, resting his hand on his knee. his forehead was creased in a confused frown. “yeah, why?”

“well… then why… why are we hanging out today? i mean, this isn’t a date.” you paused. “is it?”

his eyes widened. “wait, you don’t think—“

“it’s fine, luke.” you shrugged, pretending your heart wasn’t crumbling. “it’s my fault. i shouldn’t have brought up valentines. it was a silly joke, and—“

“a joke?” he frowned again. “this isn’t a joke.”

you looked at him. he looked earnest. “what?”

“it’s not a joke. why would i joke about going on a date with you?” he swallowed tightly and put his apple down. “did you… did you just think it was a joke?”

“no! well, yes. but i didn’t want it to be.” you exclaimed. “did… you want it to be?”

“no!” he exclaimed, turning to face you. “why would i want that? i thought we’ve been dating for three weeks now!”

“you, what?”

he took a deep breath. “you’re telling me that i’ve been assuming we’re dating for three weeks, and you’ve been assuming i’ve been joking for three weeks, because we’re both a little bit fucking stupid and can’t communicate our feelings properly?”

you stared at him, wiping your sweaty palms on your dress. the static crackled like the tension in the air. “i guess so.”

“huh.” he said, turning back to face the flowers. he was silent for a moment and you almost thought he’d leave, but then he started laughing.

“stop laughing,” you protested, pushing him lightly, your cheeks flaming hot. “stop it.”

he didn’t.

soon, you weren’t able to stop yourself from giggling, then you were both laughing uncontrollably. your stomach hurt and you had to lean on each other to avoid falling over. your faces were close—too close. your laughter died as you felt his breath on your face. his fingers brushed your hair behind your ear. his breath hitched as he did, like he’d been waiting to do that for months.

“i’ve liked you for months,” you whispered.

“i’ve liked you since the moment we met,” he cupped your face in his hand, his other one resting on your knee.

you could see the lavender roses behind him. love at first sight.

the two bees that had bumped into each other settled on the same flower.

fucking hell.

you kissed him before you could talk yourself out of it.

the kiss wasn’t like fireworks. it was more like the first flowers of spring: fresh, exciting and pure. his lips were soft. yours were probably rougher than his from your long hours in the fields. you figured he didn’t care, because he kissed you like you were the only air he needed to breath for the rest of his life. you could feel flowers blooming around the picnic blanket—daisies and dandelions in the grass. the plants in the gardens were going wild. he was like a drug; some kind of amplifier for your powers and your heart rate and gods, you never wanted to let him go. his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer against him. your hand rose to his cheek and static electricity jumped from your skin to his.

he pulled away with a gasp, his hand on his cheek. then he laughed, and kissed you again.

and again.

and again.

and again.

and you were infinitely glad for the privacy of your own secret garden.

[justnatoka]

Jealous? Nah.

David x GN! Reader

Word count: 872

Prompt: "OH you're jealous!"

Seeing you interacting and having fun with Michael makes David feel some type of way.

David was in a particularly foul mood tonight. The cheery atmosphere of the boardwalk seemed to just flow by him without any effect, as if a dark cloud was hanging around him, shielding him from all the fun. The boys noticed it too. Their leader has been quiet for a while, chainsmoking one cigarette after another.

The more attentive among them – meaning Dwayne – quickly figured out what was going on. All he had to do was follow David’s gaze to where it has been fixated for a while. From where they stood, they had a perfect view of one of the vendors selling jewelry. And in front of that vendor were you and Michael.

You were talking away about one thing or another, picking up a bracelet and turning it around in your hand, all the while seemingly having no idea how Michael’s eyes were lingering on you. He was leaning towards you, taking in your words with attention, smiling every once in a while at something you said.

David wanted to bite someone. He tried to convince himself it was only his imagination, that there was no way Michael would be so bold as to go after his partner. He also didn’t believe that you would reciprocate if he did. Still, when you started laughing at something Michael said, the melodic sound travelling to them above the white noise of the boardwalk, something in David’s chest tightened aggressively. He didn’t even notice his hand was clenched into a fist until Marko addressed him.

“Hey, man, you okay?”

David blinked a few times, trying to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that was growing in his gut.

“Yeah, I’m good. Why?”

Marko hesitated for a moment.

“I don’t know, dude, you looked like you wanted to kill someone.”

David scoffed, and took a drag of his cigarette.

When they didn’t get any further response, the boys reluctantly settled into conversation once again, leaving their leader to sink back into his less than pleasant thoughts. He couldn’t help himself, his gaze wandering towards you. Then he almost crushed his pack of smokes as he saw Michael holding up a necklace between you, seemingly trying to decide how it would look on you, smiling warmly at you when he came to a favorable conclusion. David snuffed out his finished cigarette, and instantly ripped out the next one from the package with decidedly more force than needed. He was on the verge of getting up to go and break Michael’s hand.

That was the moment Paul decided to loudly voice his realization.

“OH you’re jealous!”

Silence fell over the group as they all stared at him. Dwayne wanted to bury his face in his hand. Sure, Paul could be surprisingly observant, even when he was high as a kite, it was something he had surprised them with on a number of occasions. However, he seemed to just fuck up the timing every single time.

“What?”

Paul sensed the warning tone in that single word. He shrunk under the intensity of David’s glare.

“I mean…,” he started hesitantly, “am I wrong?”

The accusation – and the possibility of it being right – didn’t sit well with David. He wasn’t the type to get jealous, he told himself. Why would he be? And especially at Michael? Ridiculous.

You slowed your steps as you approached the group, immediately sensing the tension in the air.

“What’s going on?”

Four heads whipped in your direction and you almost took a step back. You didn’t miss the tightness in David’s jaw before it was replaced with a much softer expression.

“Nothing, kitten, everything’s fine.” He held out his hand and you took it without hesitation, sighing in contentment as he drew you in close to his chest. “Did you find something you like?”

“As a matter of fact I did! Or more like Michael did,” you corrected yourself and David’s gaze darkened for a moment.

“Did he now?” He felt a smug satisfaction at the visible chills that ran down the boy’s spine as he glared at him over your head.

“Yes, and see? It looks like you.”

He dropped his gaze between the two of you and there, in the middle of your palm sat a small pendant in the shape of a bat on a simple silver chain. It had little yellow eyes, and the spiked up hair at the top of its head looked remarkably like his own. He blinked at it in silence for a few long seconds, and you seriously started to worry that he didn’t like it.

You yelped in surprise when he suddenly drew you into a hug. It was rare for him to show this much physical attention in public, so it took you a moment to realize what was actually happening before melting into his embrace, a knowing smile secretly stretching on your lips.

“Will you help me put it on?” you asked him after he finally broke away from you, his hands lingering on your hips.

“Of course.” The fondness in his eyes as he looked down at you filled your heart with giddy warmth. It confirmed that you chose wisely, because seeing him like this was worth everything, even a little jealous misunderstanding.

Tags: @stinkydove @pandemoniavenus

Leave a comment on this post if you want to be added to my taglist!

[hyuckdolle]

B☆CKSHOTS. ᥫ᭡ mark x fem!reader

request: ( yes / no ) , @kuntyswife thank you for requesting boo !! 🤍

content warning: ( drabble ), doggystyle, praise kink, he calls reader princess, freaky sht ⭐️ want more?

messages: i’m not going in a particular order when doing requests, ima just upload which ever i finish first! … anyways first time writing abt mark kinda nervous. 🎀 feedback + reblogs is always appreciated ! especially if you plan on submitting requests <3.

⋆ idk i feel like mark would take it slow at first and then once he gets comfortable he gets freaky with it. the way he would talk you through and praise you. he’s a “take your time baby” ass dude ( him and taeyong but ). he would genuinely make love to you oml.

“shhh you’re too good to me,” he shushed you gently, praising you as you whimpered into the pillows that lay on your bed. his body leaned over yours as he laid fluttery kisses on your neck. his thrusts were slow and deep, like he was genuinely making love to you. you could feel every inch, the lengthy drags of his cock against your walls, and the way his tip would occasionally press up against your g-spot. the look of love he would have in his eyes, literally the heart eye emoji.

he would speak to you all softly and gently, his voice growing deeper than usual, “come on, throw it back for me princess.” he slapped your ass and sped up, grabbing your right cheek. you began throwing it back on him, your nails gripping the sheets as you felt the pleasuring tingles on your fingertips.

the way you would look back at him with watering doe-like eyes genuinely makes his dick jump. the innocent-looking furrow of your brows as you let out breathy gasps. and the way you reached to grab him so that he would give you the sweetest of kisses. despite your little cunt swallowing him whole, making the nastiest of squelching noises.

him dragging his hand up your spine to the back of your neck before pushing you into the pillows again, just to fuck you dumb. the loud moans and babbles of his name as your ass clapped against his pelvis, his balls hitting your tiny clit all perfectly.

he would let you grab onto one of his arms to steady yourself, your nails accidentally and occasionally digging into him. the corners of your faux mink lashes began to fall off as tears spilled out from the sweet pleasure.

“baby please-” the only audible thing that left your mouth before you bit the pillow and sobbed into it, your thighs were trembling and all. he pressed his hand into your back, deepening your arch as you tried your best not to run. but it felt too good to not. you were literally dripping down his balls and onto your sheets, leaving wet dots of arousal. the slaps of his balls colliding with your plump pussy splashing it, making a wet mess.

when he feels he’s about to cum, he lets out the prettiest of groans and tosses his head back. “look at how good this pussy is gripping me… fuck,” and he would not want to pull out </3.

 hyuckdolle 2023. all rights reserved !

[sutorus]

imagine having a sleep over at megumis and toji decides to steal you away once he finally passes out 😮‍💨 his shirts and sweats probably have cigarettes burns in them

you gave me sm toji brain rot

-🫧 anon

we gave each other toji brainrot anon 🤝 kind of a part 2 to the kinktober toji fic

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. f! reader, unprotected, mild daddy kink, some anal play, degradation, toji being toji

you’re shifting on your feet, lips trapped between your teeth as you ring the doorbell. you’re early to the sleepover by a full hour.

you don’t know what you want to expect. if it’s toji, sitting on the couch, glass of some cheap shit on the armrest and hand tucked into his sweats.

or if it’s megumi, waiting at the door, bowl of popcorn by his hip and tv blasting because his dad isn’t home to scowl about the noise.

megumi does open the door. and toji does sit there.

and somehow, that’s the least likely, worst case scenario.

“hey,” megumi greets you, stepping aside to let you in.

toji doesn’t spare you a glance, so you let your eyes travel all over him. his bare feet propped up on the center table, his arm behind his head and fingers scratching his hair.

megumi notices you looking and — thankfully — only clicks his tongue, believing you’re just as irritated at his father’s presence as he is.

and are you? you’re unsure.

you don’t know how to face toji. you don’t know how to interact with him anymore, if you even should.

you sleep over at megumi’s house all the time, but right now you suddenly forgot how it even goes. do you take your shoes off at the genkan? do you leave your bag by the door?

you decide to just walk to megumi’s room wordlessly, taking the long way behind the couch as to not block toji’s view from the tv.

this doesn’t go unnoticed by either men.

megumi follows you inside, closing the door behind him and plopping down on his bed.

“so are we starting with the first movie?” he flips his laptop open. “it’s the best one, anyway.”

“uh, yeah, sure,” you sit down beside him hesitantly.

you’re just now noticing how much megumi and toji look alike and it’s freaking you out.

“what the fuck is wrong with you today?” blunt as always. blunt as toji.

“huh? dude, chill,” you lie down, placing the laptop on your lap. megumi eyes you suspiciously before lying down beside you. “i just didn’t sleep much last night.”

“right,” he says, skeptical but disinterested, and presses play.

every minute of the movie is torture — on the screen and in your head.

around the beginning of saw iii, megumi orders pizza. him, you and toji eat in silence.

complete silence. he doesn’t even look at you.

why isn’t he looking at you? you’re in your pajamas already. no bra. short shorts. you thought you’d both established that that worked on him.

toji wipes his mouth with the back of his hand and gets up, with a grunted clean up when you’re done.

it’s so frustrating, the total lack of attention, and you’re starting to get pent up. settling back down next to megumi to watch fucking saw iv and hear him question the viability of each trap drives you crazier by the minute.

when you finally tuck in for the night, you’re anything but relaxed.

what happened to “you have one more hole for me to wreck don’t you”? toji’s so full of shit, probably too drunk to even get it up tonight anyway.

it’s those angry thoughts that lull you to slumber, regret settling deep in your gut for having ever let that horrible man inside you.

not long after you fall asleep, however, you’re stirred awake, a soft, sake-soaked breeze blowing over your face.

you crack one eye open, no surprise in your gaze because who else could it be.

toji’s smirking, crouched down, eyes searching all over your sleeping form. it sends a chill down your spine.

what do you want, you mouth to him, anger persisting against the arousal already starting to build within you.

his grin grows wider, wilder. he gets up slowly and beckons with two fingers, and like the silly fucking slut you are, you follow.

you — not toji — make sure to gingerly close the door to megumi’s room before you turn around to face him. or rather, face his chest, the flimsy cloth littered with cigarette burns that covers those muscles you finally got to know so well.

“hello?” is all you can manage to say.

he loves your indignation, loves the brattiness, will love to fuck it out of you tonight, too.

“what, don’t want it?”

you roll your eyes.

“you had to wait until megumi’s right there to say you wanna do it?” your focus wavers as he runs his hands up and down your waist. “you couldn’t have pulled me aside before?”

toji presses his leer to the side of your throat, caging you in against the wall right by the door. you let out a soft moan, hands already reaching for his arms.

“had to make sure you two weren’t gettin’ it on,” he growls into the crock of your neck, making you grimace in disgust. “i don’t like to share my toys, y’know.”

“ew, he’s your son,” the irony in your statement isn’t lost on you, the person you should actually be ewing at.

you push him away and the feeling of his abs under your palms is enough to break any rest of resolve you had in you.

toji lets out a low, satisfied laugh, throwing his head back. “exactly why i worry.”

soon enough, and unsusprisingly, he has you bent over the kitchen island, pussy stretched out and dripping on his thick cock.

“shut the fuck up,” he keeps saying when you moan, only to fuck you harder and faster and deeper.

the furniture is digging into your belly, your forearms skidding on the top. you whine softly, angling your hips so he can hit that one spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“ohhh yeah, fuck back into me,” he grabs your hair and you let out a yelp, punished with a blow to your ass. still, you do as you’re told, the sounds of your skin slapping against his growing louder, quicker.

“t-touch me, touch me, make me cum,” you beg in a desperate whisper, head straining in his grip.

toji laughs, dragging his cock out of you slowly before plunging all the way back in.

“shut up, slut,” and god, why is that so hot to you, “last i checked you weren’t in a position to make demands.”

you whimper, trying to snake a hand down your clit to do it yourself.

suddenly, toji stops.

“ah, that reminds me,” he slowly, torturously slowly to make you feel every inch of him, pulls out of you completely. then he pokes your asshole with the head of his cock.

“no,” you say in a panicked breath, trying to turn around in his grip. “no, no, not today, definitely not right now no—“

“shhh, fuck, be quiet,” he wraps his entire forearm around your throat and brings your body into his chest, nibbling at your jaw. “you’re gonna like it.”

“i don’t want to,” it’s one last attempt, the most honest one you have. toji likes fucking with you, flustering you, that much is obvious.

but is he seriously— and without any prep, too?—

he chuckles low in his throat, right into your ear.

“then ask me not to.”

he slides the tip back into your cunt and you relax a little, even moving your hips back and forth like hey! look how good my pussy is! can you just stay in it and not ruin my ass please!

“please don’t fuck my ass,” you try.

“hmm,” he hums, sliding his cockhead out. then back in. then back out.

“please, toji, don’t fuck my asshole tonight,” you clench around him, trying to take more of his length inside.

“not good enough, whore,” he slams all way back in, shoving your body into the sharp wood and making you wail. toji starts moving, fucking little noises out of you with every thrust. “say, ‘no please daddy not there, not my little asshole!’”

you let out a long, pitchy whine, clawing at the arm around your neck.

“do it or else,” toji gathers up some wetness at your entrance with your thumb and presses it to your asshole, rubbing little wet circles.

“fuck you, toj—ahh,” his finger slips inside and you clench down hard. “please! please daddy not there, not my—“

toji cackles, fucking you in earnest now, plowing every word and thought out of your brain. you’re grunting with the force of his thrusts, finding purchase in the edges of the kitchen island, knuckles turning white.

“such a good little girl, aren’t ya,” he says into the shell of your ear, snaking a hand around your hip to rub your puffy clit.

you throw your head back onto his shoulder, legs shaking in between his. “ahhh, fuck, d-daddy—“

your orgasm washes over you so forcefully that you feel like folding in two, going limp in toji’s grip as he chases his own.

he buries a few low, animalistic grunts into your hair before he’s filling up your cunt, aborted little thrusts pushing out staccato breaths from his lips.

he releases his grip on you, cock still spurting out the rest of his load.

once he pulls out, toji keeps feeding his cum into your pussy over and over, telling you to watch the floors before you have to limp your way to the bathroom to clean up.

you do the best you can without taking a shower, body so thoroughly exhausted that you don’t even know if you’d have the energy for one.

right now, all you want is to plop down on a soft surface and get some much needed sleep, feeling actually satisfied.

when you leave the bathroom, you’re faced with a groggy, disheveled megumi standing by his bedroom door.

your eyes quickly scan your surroundings.

toji is nowhere to be seen.

megumi’s eyes reveal nothing, none of the thoughts that might be going through his head right now.

as for you, there’s only one word bouncing around inside your skull:

fuck.

a/n sorry again

[kiribakuswife]

First Time for Everything

Lowkey a prequel to A Captive Audeience

Hanta Sero x Reader, Bakusquad x Reader

Kinktober Day 15!!

You didn’t know where the bolt of confidence came from as you sunk down to the floor. You doubted your boyfriend even knew you were there, smirking up at him as he was fully captured in his game. You didn’t know why, but something inside you urged you on, the thought of being so close to being caught doing something to you.

He jumped slightly as your hands drifted over his thighs, looking down at you confused. He smirked lightly, shifting his hips so you could ease his pants down a bit. He smirked down at you, and you felt your heartbeat quicken. A part of you wanted to run, to say sorry, you didn’t know what you were thinking, as he responded to a question from the other side of the headset, mic on, but another part of you…

His hand was steady as he brushed your hair back, urging you forward. His smile was soft as you looked up to him, making your heart squeeze. He gave you a small nod, confirming that it was okay, causing you to smile back. His eyes flicked back to the screen as you watched him, hand leaving your hair and gripping the controller again.

With the new found confidence, you leaned forward, placing a small kiss against his slit before slowly taking him in your mouth. He was still sort of soft as you began to move slowly, growing as your tongue swirled around him in a way that made your thighs clench together. 

He leaned back a bit, allowing you better access as he watched you, eyes searing into his own as you glanced up. He groaned quietly at the contact, making your eyes widen. “Chill dude, I’m coming just give me a sec.” He said, pulling his eyes away from you and back to the screen.

You worked slowly, dragging your tongue across him in a way that made him shiver. His thighs were beginning to tighten under your hold, your fingers tracing over him. “Oh fuck.” He groaned out, eyes fluttering shut. If there was one thing about Hanta, he was less than quiet, and you smirked at yourself at the noise. “No, of course not.” He said, stiffening, you glanced up at him, pulling off with a confused face. “You think you’re funny huh?” he asked, gesturing for you to continue. “I’d bet you’d like that huh?” He laughed, looking back down at you as his breath picked up, chest heaving.

He suddenly sat up, startling you as you leaned back, releasing him again. “Are you okay?” You asked. He smirked at you, pulling the headset off. “What?” You asked, face dropping as he put it on you instead. You gapped at him as he laughed lightly.

“Say hi, babe.” He smirked, and you felt chills run across your heated skin.

“H-hello?” You asked. You had no idea who was on the other side, honestly kind of scaring you in a way that made you part annoyed, part aroused, despite yourself.

“Just couldn’t wait, hmm, baby girl?” A voice purred on the other end, familiar.

“Kaminari?” You asked, bewildered. You didn’t know what you expected from your little act, but it certainly wasn’t this.

“What’s got you so impatient, sweet heart?” Another voice cooed.

“Kirishima?” You breathed, looking up to Hanta with wide eyes. He watched you, lids heavy as he gripped his cock.

“You can’t even answer a simple question, hmm?” The final voice chimed in. It was Bakugou, and you felt a shiver go through your spine. You didn’t know how to feel. “No one told you to stop.” Your mouth dropped a surprised gasp falling from your lips. Hanta reached down, brushing your hair back before grabbing it in a makeshift ponytail, causing a light groan to slip out at his hold.

“What are you waiting for, baby girl?” Kaminari urged you on.

“Don’t tell us your shy, sweet heart.” 

“She’s not shy, she’s needy.” Your face flushed at Bakugo’s words. It wasn’t like he was wrong and it was embarrassing that he read you so easily. Hanta’s other hand came up, stroking your cheek. You eased forward then, taking him into your mouth again.

“Why is his mic so sensitive?” Kaminari groaned, causing you to flush. They really could hear everything you were doing, and the thought of it made your skin tingle.

“You’re doing great, sweet heart.” Kirishima purred, making you whine around Hanta. His grip tightened at your noise, a groan of his own joining you.

“Listen to you, just a little praise and you're practically melting, pathetic.” Bakugou spit, another moan catching in your throat as Hanta eased your head down further.

“You’re loving this, aren’t you?” Hanta laughed horsley, allowing you to pull back and catch your breath for a brief moment.

“Yes.” You sighed out to him, before resuming your work. He was thrusting up into your mouth now.

“What did he say?” Kaminari asked.

“If she liked it.” Kirishima sighed, sounded distracted.

“Of course she likes it, she’s a little whore.” Bakugou spat, and your core nearly throbed at his words. You felt hot, confused at why you were liking it so much. Hanta gripped your hair tighter, his pace picking up as he thrusted into you. Your jaw went slack, allowing him to use you as he wished, head spinning. He was hitting the back of your throat, causing tears to spring in your eyes, messy as they fell down your face. With one more sudden thrust, he was cumming, hot in your mouth as you sputtered, trying to pull back as he held you, forcing you to swallow.

He finally released you, letting you pull back with a pop as you coughed, hiccupping as you tried to catch your breath.

“Breath, sweet heart, you’re okay.” Kirishima eased, causing a whimper to fall from your lips, mind fuzzy.

“That was so hot.” Kaminari whined.

“Tell plain face to take care of you on his own time he’s fucking up our-” Bakugou’s words were cut off as Hanta pushed off the headset, pulling you into his lap instead. He wiped your tears as he smiled at you.

“That was amazing, babe.” He whispered, placing a kiss on your cheek, “You’re amazing.” He added with a purr, pulling you closer as he stood, carrying you to the bedroom.

[eternitariant]

Sketchy

cw//tw//~ knives, blood, bruising, biting, vvv subtle lowkey hints towards sub/dom dynamic, one brutal physical assault (he's very protective... what can i say)

You were walking to your next class when someone’s shoulder slammed into you and sent you flying back into the lockers-

“Ow, Jesus.” You muttered, moving your shoulder back and forth to ensure that you still could,

“Stay out of my way.” Debbie Marlston, your most common tormenter glared at you and you rolled your eyes before continuing towards the classroom.

You sat towards the back of the room and used the time to focus more on a personal project than pay attention to the teacher’s lesson, it wasn’t anything that you didn’t already know anyway. As you sketched out the next frame of your project, someone cleared their throat beside you to get your attention,

“What?” you snipped, not even bothering to look up at them because you knew who it was,

“See, that sparkling attitude is exactly why you have no friends…”

“Well what are you then huh? A charity worker?” you quipped and your best friend laughed,

“This is really coming along. I’ve never seen you so focused… or inspired.” She held one of your loose pages and inspected it, “Shits getting kinda dark though, don’t you think?”

She was holding a drawing of a scene where your protagonist was covered in her own blood after letting someone carve a confession into her skin- it was graphic but that was kind of the point,

“Not even close. Not yet.” You smiled and she laughed,

“Whatever, just don’t cut me up into tiny pieces when you finally lose it.”

After school, you made your way home by taking your usual route along the creek and you were silently plotting out the next chapters of your story when you were interrupted,

“Your arm.” He growled and you turned your head,

“Patrick, it’s nothing.”

“It’s not fucking nothing, tell me who.” He demanded, grabbing your waist to still your frame. His dark eyes were boring into your soul and you knew that you if didn’t tell him, he’d just take it out on everyone.

“Debbie.”

“Good Girl.” He praised and you swallowed before walking again, “Ah, hold on. You haven’t shown me the next part.”

You nodded and handed him your sketchbook. He flipped through it, his smirk growing into a full blown proud smile by the end,

“I like this part.” He announced lowly and you subtly smiled,

“Figured you might, you sick freak.”

“Which part do you want to recreate tonight then, princess?” he asked, slinging his arm around your shoulders,

“It’s nothing we haven’t done before… maybe you should come up with something inspiring, Trickster.” You teased and he raised an eyebrow,

“Challenge accepted.”

Patrick was trailing kisses all over your bare skin when he reached the bruise that he hadn’t made,

“No one ever gets to mark you but me, you understand?” it wasn’t really a question so much as a command and you just nodded slowly to express your compliance, “Good girl. Roll over.” He said, lifting your hips and helping you do as he had said. He pulled his pocket knife from his jeans and lightly skimmed the tip of the blade along your spine before he used his free hand to grip into your waist and where his thumb had left an impression, he made a cut. You hissed but you certainly didn’t dislike the feeling.

“Just mapping you out baby.” He whispered, kissing the opposite side before doing the same thing so that you would have symmetrical scars.

His breath fanned your neck before he sunk his teeth into your uninjured shoulder, breaking the skin and very lightly sucking as he released his bite,

“Ready for me yet, angel?” he asked and you only answered him with pleas, begging him to give you what you needed. He chuckled lowly at how desperate you’d become and how pliable you were for him. That was probably his favourite thing about you

“Dude! Did you hear?” your best friend bombarded you the second you set foot inside the school,

“Hear what?”

“Y/N, Debbie Marlston was attacked last night.” She blurted and you just stared at her blankly,

“How?”

“Her neighbour is Hilary’s cousin and he said that she was like in her backyard or whatever, having a smoke and then this guy came out of nowhere and cut her fingers off with those like giant hedge scissor things, isn’t that so insane?” she was shocked and kinda grossed out but she definitely wasn’t upset and neither were you…

“Do they know who did it?”

“Fucking clueless. Whoever it was, they did us all a favour if you ask me.”

Patrick naturally followed you home, as always and so as you were walking you asked

“Hedging shears… who’d you steal those from?”

He laughed, “That’s what you’re worried about?”

“Not worried, just curious. They better not have come from my house, Hockstetter.” You warned,

“You don’t even have any hedges idiot.” He drawled before he cupped your face with a firm grip and his expression shifted drastically as his eyes narrowed at you, “Now, what did I say?”

“Not to worry about it.” You whispered meekly,

“There’s my girl.” He smiled, “What else do you say?”

“Thank you.” Your voice was still hushed but he nodded at you,

“That’s fucking right.”

[prettynice8]

Kinkmas Day 2: Oral Fixation

Song Mingi x male reader

This guy

Stuff: Oral Fixation DUH, kinky kissing? blow jobs, blow jobs, blow jobs (reader receiving), reader is kind of a pervert, you two are friends.

Word Count: 1,443

Notes: DAMN those lips

You and Mingi were both a part of Ateez, and you were both pretty close, there was just one problem with the relationship... his lips.

Every time you saw him the only thing you could think about was how good his lips must feel to kiss, and how mother fucking ORGASMIC they must feel wrapped around your cock.

You two were super close, so maybe if you just so happened to ask him to wrap his plump lips around your cock and give you the best blow job you've experienced, he'd just simply say yes... right? Probably not.

"Hey Y/N!" Mingi greeted as you stepped into the practice room, his deep voice always sending a delightful chill down your spine. His face is adorned with his adorable golden retriever smile.

"Hey Mingi!" You greeted back with equal enthusiasm. Being around him is like some sick torture, but you still loved the big lug.

He swung his arm around your shoulder, pulling you into a tight and friendly embrace, the smell of his perfume hitting your nose and making you feel almost sedated.

"Yo dude, something off?" He gently asked, noticing your odd behavior, how he didn't notice all the other times of you being weird is beyond me.

"Uhm... well... you..." You kind of dodge the question, debating whether to tell him about your massive crush and constant thoughts of him blowing you or not.

"You know I'm your friend, right? If something's off, you can ask me anything." He kindly offered, which sparked something within you.

"Anything?" You asked him.

"Anything." He reinforced it.

"Could you wrap those plump lips around my cock!"

Before you could even think the words just fired off like a bullet, hitting Mingi right in the chest, making him incredibly confused and... a little turned on.

"Did I hear that right?" He asked, his face filled with mass shock and confusion, though the tightening in his pants tell a different story.

"Tragically... yeah." You answered, your face covered in a deep blush. "I'm so sorry! I should-" But before you can finish, Mingi cuts you off by smashing his plump lips into yours.

The kiss is powerful, making your legs weak. He wraps his arms around your waist and pulls you in closer, deepening the kiss and making you gasp. He takes that brief opportunity to shove his entire tongue right into your mouth and down your throat.

The kiss goes from powerful to straight up nasty, his tongue dancing with yours, being so messy that drool leaks from both of your mouths. He licks up your drooling before shoving his tongue right back into your mouth.

His muscle clashes with your own, dancing inside both of your shared mouths before he wins the waltz, dominating yours.

He pulls away for a brief second to say, "What was that you wanted?" He said while palming your growing tent in your pants.

You don't respond, too dazed and confused to even talk at the moment.

"Come on... you were so loud before." He said, his palming turning into tightly gripping your clothed cock, squeezing it roughly, making you yelp. He shoves his tongue back into your open mouth.

The kiss alone is enough to make you cum, but the mix of him palming your erection is a whole thing altogether.

Before you are able to actually reach completion, he pulls away completely, breaking away all contact but still standing very close, his warm breath hitting your now swollen lips.

"Suck me off... please. I need to know what it feels like to have those plush lips on my cock, to have your warm mouth all around my dick." You said breathlessly, the kiss taking a lot out of you.

"Well, I do love you... so of course I'll lend my 'plush' lips to you." He replied cheekily before sitting you down on the couch.

He wastes no time, quickly pulling your pants and underwear down in one swift motion to reveal your achingly hard cock.

He pumps it a few times with his hand before kissing the tip. He gives it little kitten licks before licking stripes along your hole shaft, leaving light and begging moans to escape your mouth.

"Please! I need it so bad!" You begged him.

"I don't know... You're sounding a little pathetic." He said teasingly, still only giving your cock some light kisses and licks.

You've had enough of his shit, so you just slam his head right on to your cock, instantly making him take your entire member and gag as it hits the back of his throat.

Instead of getting mad or upset, he just smiles around your cock before quickly getting to work, sucking your cock with insane precision.

"Fuck Mingi... you feel so good..." You moan weekly, the pleasure being so fucking amazing.

His mouth works expertly around your cock, easily deepthroating your whole member. Your praises only give him more motivation to make you feel good.

The sight of his plump lips wrapped around your cock, a sight that you've only dreamed about until now, is to die for, simply breathtaking. In fact, breathtaking is a pretty accurate adjective, since the way his warm, wet mouth works around your cock is the most amazing feeling you've ever had.

"I'm close, do you mind if I...?" You asked vaguely, but Mingi caught on to what you were implying.

His mouth gets off your dick for just a split second so he can respond with, "I really wanna taste your cum, please, in my mouth." Before quickly taking your back into his mouth.

Knowing that you're close, Mingi doubles his efforts, moving his head even faster and deepthroating you every single time he goes down, easily doing so since he doesn't really have a gag reflex.

You burst inside his mouth, filling it up you cum so much that some inevitably leak out from the sides on and to your dick. He happily drinks up every drop, swallowing all that he could and licking up the drops that fell from his mouth.

"I can confidently say... that was the best blow job I've ever had in my entire life." You praised breathlessly.

"Best blow job you've ever had in your entire life YET." He insisted before licking your cock back to life. "Still able to get hard? Nice endurance."

"Why thank yo-" He cuts you off once again, shoving his head right back down on to your newly hard again cock.

He quickly moves his head up and down on your cock, his tongue moving along under your shaft at all times, causing even more pleasure and louder moans from you. The sounds of Mingi's dick sucking and your loud, high pitches, really gay moans permeate and fill the empty practice room.

He takes his mouth off, the only connection being the string of saliva between your tips and his lips. Before you can even argue, he slams his cock right back down on to your dick, doing this over and over again until you reach your second orgasm.

His nose is right at your pubic bone, deepthroating you so you cum goes right down his throat. He takes the complete load like a champ, not gagging or spitting out a single drop.

"Fuck your cum tastes good, I gotta have more." He praised, it's clear he's completely out of breath. Before you can argue, he once again slams his mouth right back on to your cock, sucking with a passion it's pretty clear that he's enjoying this a fuck ton.

"M-Mingi! Too much!" You shriek out, his skilled mouth on your sensitive cock is just too much to handle.

Mingi ignores your whines, continuing his oral assault on your poor cock. He hollows his cheek and relaxes his throat, making it you can feel every bit of his mouth around your cock, it's almost like an asshole with how tight it is, yet he still is avoiding his teeth, it's clear he's incredibly skilled, and knows what he's doing.

Contrary to your complaints, you thrust into his mouth, tightly gripping his hair as fuck that gorgeous mouth of his. Mingi once again doesn't do anything to stop you, letting you use his mouth as your personal fleshlight while still providing his own expertise to make the pleasure even more orgasmic.

You ejaculate into his mouth for the third and what is hopefully the last time. He drinks up every single drop, moaning from how much he adores the taste.

You relax into the couch, completely spent, you cock finally soft, for now.

"So... wanna go again?" Mingi asked.

THE END

[twilght-talks]

𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚊 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔, 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔. 𝙷𝚎’𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚙𝚎𝚛 𝚏𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚔𝚢.

Warnings: reader is referred to as ‘Bunny’, smut with lil plot, semi-public sex (club bathroom), Nam-Gyu is an asshole (Sryy) , dom!Nam-gyu, sub!bunny, fingering (f! receiving) short asf

If Bunny were to say Nam-Gyu is the biggest freak she know’s is an understatement. God she swears they could be in the middle of a fucking mall and BOOM! He’s pulling her to a bathroom to pound her.

The dude’s sex drive is astonishing really.

Nam-Gyu had decided more like she forced him to take Bunny to the club he works as a promoter for, Club Penguin. They both sit in a VIP lounge where Nam-Gyu is talking to some rapper, Thanos, she remembers his name. God that dude annoying but setting that aside. Nam-Gyu’s hand rests on her bare thigh, his cold rings making her skin crawl with goosebumps.

Nam-Gyu continues to talk to Thanos, but then Bunny gets a mischievous idea.

She discreetly places her hand over his clothed dick, knowing it would probably instantly make him hard, which it worked, immediately.

He glares at her as if saying “Stop fucking doing that.” But does she takes the warning? Hell no

He shifts his hips upwards in an attempt to hide his growing boner, which only presses her hand against him more, making it worse.

He glares at her before looking back at Thanos “We’ll be right back.” He mutters before grabbing her hand tightly and whispering in her ear

“Bathroom. Now.” His raspy voice sends a shiver down her spine. He pretty much yanks her up from the booth and he then drags her to the VIP bathroom, closing the door behind them immediately and locking it with a loud click.

He pushes her against the wall harshly before grabbing her chin, forcing her to look at him “Think you can fucking tease me like a brat?” He asks, his raspy and low voice dripping with venom and lust.

She opens her mouth to speak but she’s cut off by him harshly pressing his lips against hers.

The kiss is harsh and heated as he practically shoves his tongue down her throat. “N-Nam-Gyu please-“ she moans in between kisses

“Use your words Baby” he cuts her off, grinding against her clothed clit with his unbelievably hardened dick.

Her head falls into his shoulder as an attempt to muffle her moans, which doesn’t really work that well “Please-I need you I-inside me,” she practically whimpers against his ear.

Her begging sends a jolt of pleasure through him “And why should I listen to someone who was being a fucking brat?” He asks, his hand trailing down her pants and stopping where her panties meet her wet folds before shoving 3 fingers in without any warning, earning a loud moan from her.

He curls his fingers in her before pulling out before she can finish, leaving her a blabbering mess “Nam-Gyu please-“ she whimpers. He sucks the -now wet- fingers he had pulled out of her a second ago

“Maybe if your good later I’ll let you cum.” He practically growls in her ear “Now let’s go, I gotta finish working.”

He opens the door, leaving her a disheveled mess.

A/n: HII MY LIL MONSTERS!! So this is my first fic! How we likey? Sry I had to make our boy an asshole in this one but I promise the next one if gonna be tooth rotting fluff! That’s basically it, if you have any requests don’t be afraid to send and if u wanna be added to the taglist lemme know!

:Dividers by me:

Nam-gyu Taglist 🏷️

@lousypotatoes

[fishfooddude]

Girlfriend Treatment

Inspired by this blurb This is a really fun multiverse to write for, maybe expect more...

MDNI 18+

The Bear MasterList

Directory

“Carmen, you’re not my boyfriend. We’re not exclusive. I’m gonna fuck who I want. When I want. How I want. Leave.” 

You’d slammed the door in Carmy’s face, leaving him dumbfounded. The words echoed in his head as he stared at the door. He scoffed and shook his head as disappointment and shock washed over him. He fished his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. 

Carmy brought it to his lips and quickly lit it before turning on his heel and exiting your apartment building. As he entered the crisp spring night, he could only hear your remark about him not being your boyfriend and how you could do whatever you wanted. Carmy recognized your point. He wasn’t your boyfriend, but fuck, he wanted to be.

As Carmy lay in bed that night, he thought about you. The smell of your perfume lingered in his sheets; he closed his eyes as he inhaled the scent. He could never remember the name of it, but the lingering almond vanilla musk made his heart yearn. “Fuck.” Carmy chuckled; he knew what he had to do. 

“Can’t come over. Work.” You read Carmy’s text aloud to your friend Cecilia. “I sent him pictures, and he didn’t respond for like six hours. I don’t get it.” You groaned, throwing your phone on the couch next to you. Cecilia laughed, “You two are so dumb. He’s clearly into you, but you’re trying to convince yourself that you aren’t into him.” “I’m not into him like that- he’s a good fuck, that’s it.” Cecilia rolled her eyes and playfully slapped your thigh. “You like him, dude. It’s okay, it isn’t a big deal. You can’t have sex with someone for months and not develop at least minor feelings for them.” 

Carmy got out of the shower and noticed a new message from you. He groaned as he stared at his reflection in the mirror. He’d been trying to push you out of his head, but he melted when his phone displayed you sprawled on your bed in his favorite lacy underwear and a message about being lonely. You were pleased with yourself when he’d responded almost immediately. When a picture came through of him standing in his bathroom with a towel loosely hung around his hips, chest, and chain glistening with leftover water, it made your stomach flutter.

When Carmy showed up at your place that night, he couldn’t help but think about the last time he’d been at your door. While he enjoyed the casualness of the relationship, he didn’t want anyone else and sure as hell didn’t want anyone else having you. He didn’t even have to knock. You opened the door and pulled him through the doorway. You wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him into a deep, needy kiss. Carmy smirked into the kiss. He closed the door with one hand, and the other was under your shirt. Your skin tingled as his fingers pressed against your spine to bring you closer, deepening the kiss.

“On your knees.” Carmy groaned as he pulled away from the kiss, “You wanna be in charge tonight?” you sweetly asked, looking up at him to see his eyes darkened with lust. “On your knees. I don’t want to repeat myself.” Carmy commanded as he pressed a final kiss to your throat. You nodded and sank to your knees. Carmy sighed as you fumbled with the button and fly of his jeans. He watched you pull them down to release his growing erection. You took him in your hand and spit before slowly stroking up the length of Carmy’s cock. You stared up at Carmy as you ran your tongue up the underside of him before taking the tip into your mouth. As you swirled your tongue around it, you felt Carmy’s hand grasp the back of your head. “Come on, princess, you know what I want you to do.”

As Carmy’s orgasm approached, he pulled out of your mouth, a string of salvia connecting your lips to him. “Keep your mouth open.” Carmy moaned as he stroked himself. You giggled and stuck your tongue out for him; his strokes got sloppier as he got closer. “Fuck.” Carmy cursed as he came across your face. He watched as you brought a finger to your cheek to collect the semen and bring it to your mouth, “So fuckin’ hot, baby.”

 “Yea?” you asked, batting your lashes in his direction. You rose to your feet to take him back to your bedroom. You were a few steps ahead before noticing Carmy wasn’t following you, “What ya waitin’ for, Berzatto?” Carmy was buttoning his jeans, “Gotta go. I have plans.” 

You stood there dumbfounded. “What do you mean you have plans?” Carmy shrugged in response before explaining he was going to a bar with a girl he’d matched with on Hinge. “You’re on Hinge? Since when?” you laughed, trying to save face. Carmy nodded, “We’re not exclusive.” “No,” you shook your head, “you don’t get to just come here for head and leave.” you crossed your arms over your chest. “Sorry? Call you later.” Carmy shrugged before walking out of your apartment. “What the actual fuck?” you asked yourself as you stood there expecting Carmy to come back inside to say he was just messing with you. 

Carmy was awoken by pounding on the door; he snapped up and looked over the backside of the couch. His apartment was dark aside from the warm light coming from the TV. He got up and pushed a hand through his hair before going to the door. When he saw it was you, he knew his plan had worked. “Okay. What the fuck is going on with you?” you asked, pushing past him into the apartment. Carmy laughed to himself and closed the door before turning his attention to you, “I wanna be your boyfriend.” 

You looked at him as he crossed his arms over his chest and stood proudly by the front door, “What?” you questioned. “I wanna be your boyfriend.” Carmy restated sternly, “I want to be exclusive. I don’t you fuckin’ other dudes. I wanna take you on dates. I wanna meet your friends. Fuck it, I’ll go to fuckin’ brunch with you.” you stared at him in disbelief, “You want my cock? That’s only for my girlfriend.” he rocked on his heals hoping this wouldn’t bite him in the face. You scoffed at his comment, “Okay, so you don’t wanna have sex with me?” Carmy shook his head. “I’d love to bend you over my counter and fuck you dumb…” he said, stepping closer to you, “but I only do that to my girlfriend…” he whispered into your ear, making you shutter. “So. What’ll it be? Agree to be exclusive, delete whatever apps you have, block whoever you need to block… then have me worship your pussy all night long… or leave and lose my number?”

Part 2

[rodolfoparras]

My dude, that three headed ghost idea is noice, all I can think about is them trying to fight with each other to just a taste, even if it's only a slither of you. Trying to get them to calm down as they ravage you, like a pack of hungry wolves.

Thinking about three headed ghost giving you a blow job, watching them constantly bumping heads because it’s such a tight fit, having the muscles in your thighs crying in protest because you have to sit so wide to accommodate for all three of them. Whenever one manages to wrap his lips around your dick, the jerking movements coming from the other two causes it to slip out his mouth and slap onto the other twos cheeks.

But it’s not long before you got another mouth delivering tentatively kitten licks to your tip, each lick sending sparks of pleasure running down your spine and leaves you bucking your hips.

Just as you’re about to ask for more please, another mouth eagerly sucks you down. The head is quick to set a steady pace as if he knows he’ll be yanked away any second, obscene squelching sound mingle with the strangled sound escaping your lips. “Fuck just like that please!”

Suddenly a third mouth swallows you down to the hilt, taking you so far you can feel the throat muscles working around your dick.

At this point you can practically taste your release, the coil in your stomach growing tighter as his warm wet mouth keeps sucking your dick. “So ah- so close please!”

There’s a frantic urge to lock the head in place, to keep him from moving away. But your legs are spread so wide you’re unable able to move around, practically left at their mercy and silently praying they’ll let you finish.

However he too is yanked away from your grip, leaving your poor cock surrounded to the frigid air, your release dying down with each second that passes.

At that point you’ve just about had enough, ready to pry yourself away from them and finish yourself up but as you turn to look at them you’re met with the sight of two of the heads making out; licking into each others mouth, sucking on each others tongue, moaning like theyre actually sucking on your cock.

All thoughts leave your head as you sit there looking dumbfounded before you suddenly jerk in place as a pair of lips wrap around your dick. The third head looks at you with watery eyes and lips all slack, as if telling you use me, please

And who are you to deny him that?